Paths Woven

Untrusted

I drift in and out of consciousness, John's worried face there almost every time. Apparently I've stopped breathing and my heart has stopped beating several times in the past few hours. Scarlet has disappeared. Figures.

She probably returned to the abandoned school to use it as a hideout. Or to meet with Moriarty. Wouldn't put it past her, because I'm sure she's confused about who's good and who isn't. She may believe I'm on the bad side and Moriarty is good. Or she's just turned psychopath, but I highly doubt it.

I ask them when I can leave. They say I should always have a small IV with me for the next three months. I can leave in two days.

Predictably, the next two days are long and absolutely boring. I have half a mind to take out the heart monitor tube just to freak the doctors out. Or shoot the wall, perhaps. I wish I could reach the bag of spray paint cans so I could do a smiley face or something on the wall. Unfortunately, I can barely sit up, much less stand. Might have to use a wheelchair.

Scarlet is an ungrateful piece of crap for using my heart attack as a cover up for running off again. I will find her. And she'll be sorry she ever messed with Elizabeth Watson. At least, when I'm able to walk again. Darn my frail heart!

They let me out, but I still haven't regained use of my legs, so I'm stuck in a gosh darned wheelchair. I get back to 221b, and Mrs Hudson and John help me up the stairs. I wheel over to one of the forty five laptops Sherlock isn't using. He's managed to occupy the other twenty. I open it, easily hacking the code. I manage to access all the security cameras in the area around the hospital.

"Hmm, three days ago, three days ago, where is it..." I scroll through the tapes. "Aha."

I see Scarlet by an office building, talking to her reflection. Jim shows up behind her, says a few words, then takes her arm. They head in the direction of the abandoned school. Just as I suspected.

I ask them to help me back down the stairs. Soon I'll have to get a handicap ramp for my flat...

I wheel myself outside, and head down the street by myself, towards the school. Westchester High. I'm sure they have access to the cameras there, so I'm going at a huge risk. Hopefully Scarlet will have a bit of a soft spot when she sees that she put me in a chair. It's not likely, but it's a wild card I have to play.

I arrive two hours later, slightly out of breath from wheeling myself ten miles. Taxis don't take handicaps. Yeah, it sucks. I push my wheelchair into the parking lot and up a ramp. I shove open the doors and zoom in just before it shuts.

"Scarlet, I know you're here. If you want to make things clear about who's side you're on, show yourself."

"You're in a wheelchair," she observes from behind me. "After I leave three to four times, doesn't it occur to you that maybe I don't want to be found? Anyway, if you're here to confront me, you have ten minutes, because that's when I'm leaving."

I sigh, shoulders slumping. "It did occur to me, Scarlet. I just wanted to save you from a worse fate. I'm not say that you need it, of course, but you're an acquaintance I would like to be on good terms with. If you think Moriarty is on the good side... I understand you're probably confused. Two years ago, I was shot by a man who had just killed my father. Ever since, I've been running from him. I sought out safety with the only relative I knew of. John H Watson. Now I'm here, having successfully found the girl who ran away two and a half years ago, who keeps running like all hell is at her heels, which it might be, depending on who's side you're on. I just came to warn you. You can take one path or the other. You have to decide which is good or bad. And I know, neither is clearly black or white. Every choice in this world is a shade of grey. And trusting someone is one of the greys that seem light at first but darken into black when you figure out who they really are. That's all I have to say. Would you mind opening the door for me so I can get out?"

Scarlet sighs. She sighs again, contemplating. With a final deep breath in, she opens the door. "C'mon. We'd better hurry, Moriarty will be back soon."

A little flicker of hope flutters in my chest. I push it down, not letting it get too high. I tend to become giddy when things turn my way. I zip down the ramp extremely fast, Scarlet running to catch up. She yells,

"Wait! If Jim sees us, we gotta make it look like you're my captive."

I nod. "If you push the wheelchair and I seem unconscious, will that convince him?"

"I have to gag you as well."

"Fine. Just get it over with."

She pulls a small piece of cloth out of her pocket and unfolds it. She loops it through my mouth and ties it, tight, behind my head. I let my head loll to one side, eyes rolled up so anyone watching can see the whites only. Scarlet ties my hands behind the chair. This is very risky to let her do so. I feel a little relief when I realize the knot isn't tight enough to fully restrain me. As if I could run anyway, though.