Rachel

I've been running all my life. Away from the horrid memories of the sacrifices my mother made to protect me, and to protect my name from this evil world we live in...
But everything's changed...
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I've recently found out my mother was murdered by a psychopath; choosing the wrong pill in a game of chance that would give away her secret. That gave away my name.
That cost her her life...
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I heard a man named Sherlock Holmes had solved my mother's case along with others who had fallen of the same fate. I must find him so I can warn him: for he does not know what he has gotten himself into...

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34. One Final Trick

The vehicle halts suddenly to a stop, forcing me to collide with a small barrier that divides the driver's area from the rest of the what I now supposed was a van. Thankfully my back hits the small wall instead of my internally bleeding gut. Someone comes and pulls me up by the rope that bound my hands together and plops me back on my legs. I hear a door open, and someone leads me out of the van, the bag, rough in texture, still over my head. The bag gets removed, and I have to squint for my frail blue eyes to comprehend the light coming back into them. Of course, I feel a gun press against my head, and I don't dare to turn around.

Buzz.

Buzz.

I overhear a phone vibrate, and the gunner behind me puts it to my ear.

"So, we speak again, you lil' bastard."

"You..." I answer in reply to Sebastian's rugged Scottish accent. I can hear his crooked smile start to form.

"Yes...and I surprisingly got some good news for you." My mind goes through a state of slight confusion.

"What defines 'good news'?"

I make out my father's devious laugh. "That's not important, bastard. What is important is that... you're not my daughter; you never were, you stupid bastard..."

I sigh in relief, and before I could ask about my real father, turns out Sebastian wasn't finished.

 

"But my son is right behind you."

 

I try to turn, but the gunner just presses his gun harder into my bruised skull. He clearly didn't want me to know who he was, but this made me even more determined to find out who he is, and as I turned he just pressed harder...

And harder...

And harder...

Until I saw him...

 

His dark brown hair...

"GET THE FUCK IN!"

His soothing, soft hands...

"...She said that you were at the sandwich shop next door, so I went, and here we are."

His ever-changing eyes...

"Hello Ms. Sunshine."

His calming voice...

"...I love you."

 

"...PJ..." My voice cracks as tears burn in my eyes. Tears were forming in his as well.

"Rachel..." His words shake like the gun in his hand, "I never wanted you to know. I wanted to protect you."

"LIAR!" Sebastian yells through the phone. "YOU NEVER LOVED THIS STUPID BITCH!" His meniachl laugh over takes my emotions, and I smack the phone out of PJ's hand with a simple kick of my leg. The phone flys over PJ's head, and lands with a thud on the pavement. Then suddenly, there's a deafening silence between us.

"He's right..." PJ says, tears streaming down his red hot cheeks. "I wasn't supposed to..." He looks to a window above us, tears pouring out as much as London on a rainy day. PJ chuckles jokingly. "If he knew...my dad would have a bullet through my brain faster than I could put one through his." He picks the phone up off the ground and puts it to his ear.

"Everything's fine, Dad...she just kicked it out of my hand, that's all..."

I turn around, just thinking that I was just going to see the roof of St. Barts and nothing more.

 

But there was Sherlock.

Standing on the edge.

Looking as if he was going to jump.

 

I was tempted to scream out his name, but all that came out was a frail whisper of disbelief...

"Sherlock..."

I feel a gun at my skull.

"Rachel..." PJ starts. "...Sebastian wants me to kill you."

I only nod.

"I just want to say..." He sniffles. "That I really do love you...no matter what...and I am so sorry that it has to come to this..." He was blubbering uncontrollably now, and I could feel tears stream down my cheeks too.

But I stayed strong in the face of Death...

In the face of Suffering...

 

Finally, a trigger is pulled.

And my world comes

crashing

down...

 

I turn to find myself in a dream-like, slow-motion state, and I believe for a moment...just a moment...that I'm dead.

But I'm not.

I was still breathing.

And there was no blood.

At least...not my own.

 

I see Julie, face covered with blood, a bullet put through her head. I see PJ, cradling his dead sister in his arms, screaming, but I hear no sound.

I look back towards Barts, and I look up...

Sherlock wasn't on the roof.

 

I walk out of the alley, everything around me growing blurry as I see John, collapsed on the road. I don't go to his aid, and instead move towards a small crowd that has gathered at the base of St. Barts. I peer over everyone's shoulders, and I see the Sherlock I once knew.

Face stained red...

Blood like a river on the pavement...

Death greeted like an old friend...

 

I turn back to the street, and collapse to my knees...

 

"Oh my God...RACHEL!!!" First John...

"RACHEL!!!" Then PJ...

"Dear Lord, is she alright?"

"Rachel...RACHEL!!!"

Then Sherlock...

 

Their screams...

They never ceased...

Even though they were the screams of the living, I felt dead inside.

Oh...

The Never...

Ceasing...

Pain...

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I didn't go to the funeral.

 

I just stood behind the large oak in the cemetery, and watched as Sherlock's coffin was lowered into the earthy hole below. I chuckle to myself. He was already headed down that road anyways.

 

After the crowd leaves with John and Mrs. Hudson, I come out of my hiding spot and take out my roses.

They were the very same that he gave me when I had come back from the hospital.

I grasp my raindrop-shaped gem as I approach the grave.

I just stand.

And gaze.

 

I place down the flowers, tears forming in my eyes, and sing a song to the lowly grave:

 

Sherlock, Sherlock, little star...

How I wonder where you are...

Up above buildings so high...

Like a hero in the sky...

Sherlock, Sherlock, face stained red...

Why did you jump...

Why are you dead?

 

"I hope you're happy now...burning in hell."

I crumple in front of the grave just as rain starts to fall, and I stay there till the downpour calms me enough to sleep...

 

I wake up, and I find my slightly mud-caked self in my bed back at Baker Street. Was it all just a terrible nightmare? Surely it was...

I turn to see a shadowy figure dressed in black observing me from the corner of my room, and I recognize who it is instantly...

 

"Sherlock?"

 

I jump at John opening the door, the light let in temporarily blinding me. John hurries to my bed side and takes my hand.

"Oh my God...Rachel..." He starts saying, slightly panicked. He hugs me before he can continue in his warm, comforting embrace. "Are you okay? I found you in the graveyard, and I carried you back home, and I didn't know that you were alive or not..." I feel the tears flowing on his cheeks. "I was terrified...that you had left me, too..."

Left you? What does he mean by "left"?

"What do you mean?" I inquire, curiously confused. "Sherlock carried me here, didn't he? He's right there, too." I point towards the corner, where Sherlock was still standing.

"What do you mean, Rachel? No one's there..." John shakes his head, and I see Sherlock raise his head, and it sends me reassurance that what happened at St. Barts was definitely not a dream.

He was covered in blood, with a face as pale as the moon. Some of the blood dripped onto the flooring with heaving and heavy thuds...

 

Plop...

Plop..

Plop...

 

And then, the screams start all over again...

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