Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

17th December, 1887

“You did this!” the voice of my captor echoed through the building before he burst through the door. His hand was buried in Charlie’s hair, his grip cruel as he dragged the lad in. “This is your doing!”

“Steady on...” I tried to sound authoritative, but it came out as a broken whisper, his torment having stolen my strength. “You’ll hurt him...”

“And so I should!” He used his grip to shake Charlie, who clung to the older man’s wrists in pain, already covered in bruises and his own blood. “You got to him, didn’t you! Got him to send a warning to your precious Holmes!”

“Leave him alone,” I used my shoulder to push myself upright with a groan. “You’re right, it was my doing, it was my fault.”

“Well, a lot of good it did you both.” He flung Charlie across the room, and the lad hit his head against the desk before slumping to the floor. “He’s already here,” he declared, but it by no means dulled his anger. “But I should kill you now for what you’ve done!”

“What *I* have done? You’re a monster!” I could no longer hold my venom back, not after all we had endured at his hands.

He leapt on me, his hands fastening around my throat, pinning me against the bed. My hands bound and body weak from pain and hunger, I had no hope of throwing him off. I struggled for breath, the ache in my chest deepening with the lack of air, until the pressure of the crushing grip blackened the edges of my blurred vision.

A pair of strong hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him off me and throwing him violently to the floor. I sucked air back into my lungs even as I coughed, closing my eyes tightly to try and get my vision straight. I opened them at the feel of a hand on my face, a shuddering laugh escaping me at the all too welcome sight. “Holmes...”

I tried to catch hold of him, to feel him, embrace him in the relief that washed over me like a balm...

“Get away from him.” M had pulled himself to his feet, a pistol in his hand, levelled at Holmes. “I said get back!”

Holmes glared at him, ire burning in his eyes, but he took a step back, his body tense and coiled with dangerous fury. “Joss...”

Joseph Moore gave a cold chuckle, a hand lifting to press against the corner of his mouth to wipe blood away. “Sherlock Holmes. It took you long enough to get here. You’re slowing down.”

I looked to Holmes with confusion, frowning as my sluggish mind tried to make sense of it. “Joss? You know M?”

“Yes.” The word was tight, almost a hiss through Holmes’ clenched teeth. “Joseph Moore. A man who used to be a good friend of mine...before he died.”

Joss gave a mocking bow of the head to the words. “Yes...you made it all too easy for me Holmes. Your natural affinity with murder.”

Holmes turned his face away from him, crimson staining the usually pale features. “I...do not understand,” he almost whispered, near grief in his voice. “I gave you everything I could to help you. What did I ever do to anger you so?”

“You took more than you could ever give me!” Joseph shot back in anger, staring at him with burning eyes. “I told you the truth...that I had been lost since my brother left...but it was you who took him from me!”

“*What*?” Holmes looked at him as if he were mad.

“Didn’t do your research very well, did you,” Joss ground out, watching him with narrowed eyes. “My brother was David Rowton...you sent him to the gallows! You killed my brother as sure as if you’d shot him!”

Sudden understanding crossed Holmes’ stunned features. “He was a murderer, brought to justice, no more...” he watched him with dawning horror. “It was all an act from the beginning, Joss?” he asked in a barely perceptible whisper.

“It was easy,” Joss gave a bitter smile, but his eyes had reddened with unshed tears. “I found your study window, made sure to make enough noise for you to hear me. Then it was just a case of making sure you pitied me enough to help me. Charlie, now he wasn’t a part of my original plan, no…but when you introduced us, well, he was as pathetic a wretch as I have ever seen. He was just longing for love...for someone to pledge his loyalty to...to feel needed, a part of a family. It was child’s play, seducing him with kind words, promises, affection. Everything you aren’t capable of. After that, I knew the pitiable thing would do whatever I asked of him,” he chuckled coldly, a glint of repulsion in his eye. “He was pathetic...but useful. Although, I knew I couldn’t push my luck. I never told him my true intentions, because as loyal as he was, I knew that for some sick, absurd reason he was also still loyal to you. He had no idea of the full plan until your dear Doctor told him...”

“If you wanted to kill me, you had plenty of opportunity without this puerile farce...why stage your own death?” Holmes demanded, his anger only deepening at hearing how he had used his vulnerable young friend, Charlie.

“It was a question of waiting. And you know, I didn’t even mind, because the planning of a thing can be just as sweet as the act itself.” Joss offered him an unfeeling smile, a shrug twitching at his shoulder. “And besides, who said it was you I wanted to kill?” He arched an eyebrow, his features shifting to a mask of stone as he turned the weapon away from Holmes and towards me. “You took my brother from me. I want you to know that pain, to live with it for the rest of your miserable life. I could wait for that. Lay the perfect trail, until you and I were stood here, together, in this moment. For you to witness the death of your precious Doctor, to know just how deeply I touched him, and be left with nothing but the image of his blood on your hands every time you close your eyes.”

Joss lifted the weapon a touch as his features hardened with resolve, his finger curling at the trigger of the pistol...but a cry escaped him before he could shoot, his hand grabbing at his arm in pain.

Charlie had stabbed his pen into Joseph’s flesh, as deep as he could possibly drive it. The youth stared wide-eyed at the harm he had done him, stumbling away with shock.

Joss whirled in his fury, glaring at Charlie in a single moment of disbelief before shooting him without a second thought.

Holmes leapt forward to catch Charlie before he could hit the ground, and that contemptable coward, Joseph, used the distraction to flee the room, blood staining his shirt as he made his escape.

I pushed myself off the bed, moving awkwardly to Charlie’s side, gratitude grappling with horror as I hurried to examine the wound in his shoulder. However, Holmes was readying himself to make chase after Joseph.

“Holmes!” He halted at my call and looked to me with confusion, his need to go after Moore all too clear in how he gripped the doorway, ready to bolt.

“Charlie needs help, and I cannot give it to him...I can barely stand let alone treat a patient...” Despite my blunt words, he struggled, looking down the hallway with apprehension. “Holmes...please...let him go. Charlie needs your help. Let him go...”

Holmes clearly swallowed down a curse as he turned to us, dropping to his knees to pull Charlie’s jacket out of the way.

“Sherlock?” Charlie’s voice was weak yet somehow laden with raw, heavy grief. “I am so sorry...” Tears escaped the lad as his hands tried to get a hold on his jacket. “I didn’t know...I swear to God I didn’t know...”

“Shh...” Holmes watched him with sorrow of his own as he touched his face briefly. “I know...I know, Charlie, just stay still...” he whispered, and to my surprise he pressed a tender kiss to his brow. His hands reached to me and half tore the already tattered shirt from my body to fold and press against the wound, to try and halt the blood flow.

Holmes glanced my way with concern...and froze. He stared at my body with horror, at seeing the state of it after Joseph’s treatment of me. “John...”

“What is happening here!” Mycroft’s voice filled the room as he stormed in. “I know you told me to wait, but I heard the shot and...”

“Better late than never...” Holmes pushed himself up, brushing past his brother. “See them both well, I have business to attend to.” He barely managed to get the words out, his jaw clenched with renewed rage. Before a single question could be asked, Holmes shot out of the room to give chase after Joseph Moore.

*****