Childhood Heroes {Sherlock Fanfiction}

Trusting the Traitor

Lillian's POV

"Speak. Now," I told him.

"What do you want to know?" He asked, his eyes glancing at me.

"Who are you and where are you taking me?"

"I am Tristan Declerk, an immigrant from Belgium. I moved here with my then fianceé, Anne Renard. And I'm taking you to the safe house."

"Safe house. Ha," I scoffed at his choice of words.

He turned on the GPS screen and showed where we were on the road.

        Turned on the GPS screen?

"Why did you change your names?"

"We wanted to start a new life, away from our problems back in Belgium."

"What kind of problems?"

His grip on the wheel tightened. "Family and business. We were constantly in and out of job-finding. Then we thought maybe in England we could find our opportunities."

"And the family problems?"

"Anne was supposed to be married to another man, but we were in loved with each other and we have our own promises to keep for the future we planned. We had so many things we on our lists, and then you came." He flashed a smile, but was gone with a blink of an eye, replaced by a sorrowful frown. "I can't lose you the way I lost her."

I sat there silently, watching this broken man talk about his miserable life and how he found refuge in this country. I scanned him up and down to see any break of character if he is only acting. However, he was sincere and truthful as he spoke. He was telling the truth.

"How did you get into this situation? Why are there people chasing you?" I asked.

"Remember my work for Mr. Hardy, from my company. I've been pulled into a sand pit and only have limited moves. It's not long before they catch up to us."

"You said you were framed?"

"I am." He nodded.

"Well then why don't you just prove to them that who they're chasing after is the wrong man?"

"Because it's too late to stop them, and to make matters worst, they are paid, Lillian, to get me."

"How do you even know these things?"

"Because I got someone inside for intel."

       Intel

"Who?"

"You."

. . .

By eight-thirty, we reached what sort of looks like an exclusive village. There were tall trimmed hedges, steel gates with intricate patterns and designs, behind those were massive houses with wide-ranging lots. As few more confusing turns, everything started to become one picture -- a maze.

A gate opened to us, letting us in into this Baroque architecture mansion with luxurious landscape. It stood tall with its corner towers where ivy vines climbed. The windows were clear of the plants and has intricately carved stools.

He parked the car outside the garage. With a reassuring smile, he turned to me. "Safe house."

"And whose house is it?"

"Friend of mine. I seek help and he lend a hand, so far he's not back-stabbing me."

"You don't trust him?"