The Swan Queen | Sherlock

The Reichenbach Fall

Someone brought me clothes to wear. I pulled on the bottoms but I kept his shirt on. It was soft, and strangely comforting against my skin. They left me in a dimly lit room, sat at a table, my leg bouncing up and down restlessly. They hadn't objected to bringing me in, especially when I admitted to stealing a car. Mycroft was about to get a rude awakening this morning.

I could hear him long before I saw him. Shouting the odds about 'Where is she?' and 'Do you know who I am?'

The door opened, revealing him, and instantly I was ready to tell him everything. He'd been a constant in my life, a reassurance. Sure, he often treated me like a silly little girl, but that's what I was, at times. Just a silly little girl who got caught up in the big bad world of James Moriarty.

He took one look at me, and instantly he was ready to break too. I could tell. I could read Mycroft like an open book.

"Oh, my darling girl, what's happened?" he asked.

"There's no time," I replied, "Sherlock's in trouble. Moriarty has something big planned."

So I told him everything. Well, not quite everything. But I told him about Kitty Riley, Rich Brook, the hotel, the contract. "He said if I signed he'd leave Sherlock alone, but I knew he was lying. So I had to get away, I have to warn him. That's why I stole the car."

He looked flummoxed, which was a first for him.

"I sent flowers to Molly Hooper," I continued, "I hope she got them. There was a code in the message. Hopefully, it's all Sherlock needs to squash these Rich Brook the actor claims."

"I'm sorry? You are speaking in riddles."

"Rich Brook... Reichenbach. Surely you made that connection too. Rich Brook in German means —"

"Yes, I understand now."

"We can get the story out there, prove to everyone that Sherlock isn't a fraud."

"Sam—"

"Have they been able to return to Baker Street yet? I heard about the police coming round. They're not still on the run are they?"

"Sam—"

"I don't think I can return home at the moment. There's probably a hit on my head for running away."

"Sam, I—"

"Oh, Mycroft, what have I done?" I said, burying my face in my hands. "What if I've made all of this worse? What if he was telling the truth?"

He placed his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "You and I both know that man is not capable of human emotions, he certainly wouldn't give up tormenting Sherlock for a woman. No matter how remarkable that woman is." He wiped my cheek, not that any tears had fallen. "It's possible he cared enough for you not to bear witness to what he has planned, but I don't believe there's anything you could have done to change his course. Now, let's get you out of this place. I've picked you up from police stations too many times. Enough for one lifetime."

That made me smile.

Thanks to the powers of Mycroft, no charges were brought against me. And the car would be returned to its owner at the hotel. Our drive back to London was a silent one, he was too busy on his phone. I wish I had mine. Once again I had lost it and would need to buy a new one. I wondered what Moriarty did with all the phones he had taken from me over the years. Were they all in a drawer together as a keepsake? Or tossed away.

I wonder if he ever looked through them, at my messages to my friends, the photos I took. Did he lie awake at night scrolling through the selfies, the candid shots of Sherlock and John, the videos of my friends dancing, the ones they took of me. The random photos I took of my daily life; the stray cat who hung around Baker Street, sunrises, grandmother, grandfather, Mycroft looking serious.