Rogue Male: A Sherlolly Story
DEWERâS HOLLOW â MIDNIGHT
The only light offered was that given off by the full moon. It was enough to illuminate the immediate area that Sherlock had selected. The ominous atmosphere was enhanced, as it had been the last time he stood here, by a thick fog. But thankfully this time the fog wasnât permeated with the drug developed by The H.O.U.N.D. Project. All the pressure pads that had been placed in the Hollow had been removed and destroyed by the Army the following morning after the conclusion of the case.
He had briefly considered finding a place to conceal himself, but in the end decided the time for hiding was over.
Sherlock preferred to face his unknown adversary face to face.
So he stood patiently, and waited.
It turned out to be a long wait. Either his pursers were unfamiliar with the area, or they were aware of his impatient nature.
The second option was the most likely.
It was close to 6.00am, and the sun was just on the rise when Sherlockâs ears picked up the telltale sound of a twig breaking underfoot.
âWell, that was unfortunate, wasnât it?â a womanâs voice noted mockingly.
âExcept when done deliberately,â Sherlock responded drily.
âI was rather obvious wasnât I?â
âSo now that youâve made yourself known, why donât you come out so we can finally become acquainted,â Sherlock suggested.
âReacquainted surely?â
Sherlock frowned, a quick review of his Mind Palace confirming that the voice of the woman was completely unfamiliar to him. âWhat do you mean?â
âOh Sherlock, it appears Mycroft was correct when he told me youâd altered your memories of me.â
âWho are you?â Sherlock demanded. His rising anger fuelled by the fact Mycroft knew more than he had told him.
Emerging from behind a large tree, the woman with long dark hair, and wearing a white top and three quarter length trousers, and white sneakers, made her way over to where he stood, coming to a halt just out of arms reach.
âIâm Eurus,â she announced, as though that answered everything.
When Sherlock continued to stare at her blankly, realisation dawned.
âYou did more than simply alter your memories, you wrote me out completely. Interesting, I wonder why.â
There was something distinctly disturbing about her, the way she watched him with those large intelligent, but utterly cold eyes that left him feeling more than a little unnerved. It was as though she knew things about him that no-one else did.
His deduction was proved correct when he spotted what she held in her hand, a red handkerchief, like the one that had belonged to his childhood best friend, Victor Trevor.
Sherlock hadnât given any thought to Victor for many years. The painful memories carefully tucked away, never to be revisited again.
He and Victor would dress up as pirates, Sherlock was Yellowbeard, and Victor was Redbeard.
But then Victor mysteriously disappeared. Sherlock had looked everywhere for his friend. But to no avail.
âShe knows where he is,â his father had said.
âBut she refuses to tell us,â his mother replied bitterly. âShe just sings that nonsense song.â
And then there could be heard a little girl singing.
âI that am lost, oh who will find me?
Deep down below the old beech tree.
Help succour me now the east wind blows.
Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go.â
And he knew Victor was dead.
And he knew who Eurus was. The sister he had removed from his memories.
âYou killed my best friend. Why?â he demanded.
âI never had a best friend,â Eurus replied coolly.
âSo all this... you did all of this to me because you couldnât make friends?â Sherlock asked incredulously.
âIâve spent most of my life locked in a glass cage, deep beneath a fortified prison on an isolated island, being constantly monitored by security cameras, with very little human interaction, and absolutely no physical contact allowed,â Eurus explained. âAnd through it all no-one ever gave any thought to how I felt, then or now. So is it any surprise that my thoughts would turn to planning my revenge.â
Sherlock felt sick. It was so much to take in.
âAnd finally at last we have come to the end.â
It was evident that these words were the cue for her accomplice to appear.
Becoming frustrated, Eurus raised her voice. âAnytime youâre ready Parker.â
A moment later someone Sherlock and Eurus didnât recognise emerged into the clearing.
The blonde haired woman made her way over to where Sherlock stood. She offered Eurus a pleasant smile, though her eyes and whole demeanour remained as cool as ice.
âSorry, but Iâm afraid Parker wonât be joining this little gathering, heâs been permanently retired,â she explained as she dangled his garrot of choice, it was based on the military garrot used during WWII, with two wooden handles attached to a length of flexible wire. âHoist by his own petard, as I believe the saying goes.â
The woman waited patiently as she watched Eurus realise that her well planned revenge would never come to fruition.
The moment Eurus lunged forward, the woman gave the order, âNow!â
One moment Eurus was upright, and the next she was collapsed unconscious on the ground.
And to Sherlockâs utter astonishment Molly Hooper stood there, the syringe she had used to inject a strong sedative into Eurusâ neck in her hand.
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