The Swan Queen | Sherlock

Sit Quietly & Watch The Carnage

Diamonds are forever...

                              They are all I need to please me...

                                                                          They can stimulate and tease me...

They won't leave in the night...

                                                             ...I've no fear that they might desert me.

Diamonds are forever...

                                           ...and ever

                                                                  ...and ever

Diamonds. I was dreaming of diamonds. Dazzling, sparkling diamonds. I was being showered in them. In the distance someone was singing. Diamonds are forever. Diamonds are a girl's best friend. Shine bright like a diamond.

"A sparkling diamond for my sparkling diamond," said a voice as a necklace was placed over my head and around my neck. It was gorgeous, glistening, expensive! I'd never seen a diamond before, never worn one - at least, I don't think I have. Have I? Maybe I have. I couldn't remember, couldn't think.

I reached up to touch them, cold, smooth, breathtaking...

I gasped for air as I felt the chain twist around my neck, restricting my airway, suffocating me. Was this me? Was I doing that or was someone else? Death by diamonds. It wasn't the worst way I could die, nor the first attempt on my life. And hey, it was certainly the fanciest.

My eyes shot open, waking me from my diamond dream. The sparkles vanished, but the feeling of being choked was still there. I clawed at my neck, hearing the tear of fabric as I pulled my necklace free from the pillowcase it had embedded itself into. I had no idea where I was, in a bed in a room. Thankfully no one appeared to be around to witness me accidentally choke myself on my own necklace while sleeping.

It was all a blur, where I was, how I'd got here, where I was before here. Had I taken myself to bed? This wasn't my bed, so that answer was no. I struggled to remember, racking my brain for answers. What day was it? Was it still today or was it now tomorrow, today? I'd been at work, Finn and I were having lunch - no, we were going to have lunch. We didn't. Kitty Riley got in the way of that, the cow.

What was it she had wanted to show me? Sherlock... he's a fraud. No, he isn't. Rich Brook is the fraud. Rich Brook... Reichenbach. Dilated pupils, elevated pulse... Room service if I was good. But then what? How had I gotten here? Wherever here was. I looked around the room. It was large, lavish, very red, very hotel-like.

Oh dear... It appeared the bird was in her cage. The ballerina back in her box.

I got up out of bed, my head pounding from the movement. I fought through the dizziness. I had to get out of here, had to warn Sherlock. My legs were like jelly and I fell to the floor the minute I tried to stand. The wind was knocked out of me as I lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. It was gorgeous, decorated with a mural. I wondered if it was a real painting or simply a print. I choose to pretend it was real, painted by someone incredibly talented, but troubled. Perhaps they were an alcoholic or a drug addict or addicted to something else... addicted to love. The mural was dedicated to their muse, who was an actress, no, a poet - no! A dancer.

A ballet dancer.

I could see swans on a lake in the far corner. How familiar that felt, like an old memory from a different time. When actually it wasn't all that long ago, not really. There were other birds on the mural. In one corner was the lake scene, swans, ducks, geese. Birds in flight, their reflections in the water just as detailed and lifelike. There were reeds, grassland, where grouse and pheasants poked out. A majestic stag stood proudly, a fox, rabbits, more birds in flight.