Beneath The Mask

chapter 11

Chapter:

Vameron:

What is that annoying sound? It's still dark out. Oh, my phone. "Hello?" I say as best I can.

"Im not in the area," a voice says. Who is it? Oh, it's Jonathon. Right. "But a contact will give you your plane ticket. Give us a little time to get set up. Call a cab sometime tonight and go to the airport."

Why did he have to call me so early to tell me to wait until tonight? I don't know, whatever. "Ok." He hangs up. I go back to sleep.

---

When I see the sun start to set, I decide it's time to start following Jonathon's instructions. I call for a cab and have them take me to the airport. The cab driver hands me a ticket and a note. A plane ticket.

"Thanks." I wasn't entirely expecting that. I offer him some money, which he turns down as I half expected.

When I finally reach the building that contains James, I am yet again let in to see Mycroft. I waste no time on introductions with the man. He's lost that privilege. "It's past Friday. I want to see Jim."

"Did you enjoy your trip to London?" He asks. Of course he would already know about that. I refrain from rolling my eyes.

"Not particularly. Of course, Sherlock didn't enjoy his trip to Russia either. I hear he's in (name of location) now."

"You just happen to have that information?" Did you seriously just ask that stupid question?

"Yes. I told you specifically I *heard*. Not I *found*." It's all in the word choice. Therefore, what I have said is true and not incriminating.

He just looks at me as though I could have done better. Whatever. He then picks up the phone. "Get someone to (place)...yes..." He hangs up and looks at me again. I just give him a blank stare because he isn't worth anything more than that.

"Excuse me, I would appreciate it if you let me see Jim now," I say simply.

He takes a moment to think. "Give me a reason." Dumb. You won't like the answer.

"Because, unlike you, I'm decent and honest. I have no criminal record. Nor do i make it a point to pry unnecessarily into your very private life." I look at him plainly and say, "There. I just gave you four good reasons."

He sighs, which I take it to be a good sign. Then his phone rings. He draws his brows like there is something wrong with that. Does he not get any calls or something? He picks it up. "Yes..." After a few moments, he hangs up. He looks at me another moment.

He then presses the intercom button. Reluctantly, he says, "release...James Moriarty."

Hearing those words bring such happiness and relief for me, but I try to control it. I am, after all, still with Mycroft. I force myself to walk to the entrance where I can find my James.

After a few minutes of impatient waiting, I see James being escorted out by someone. I scan him quickly to see if he's alright. He looks fine, just very tired. So I hug him tightly in relief.

After several seconds, he finally says, "Hi."

I smile wamly at him. "Hi."

He looks off somewhere behind behind me. Then he looks back at me. "I didn't say anything."

I blink. Yes he did, James just told me hi. I just say, "Ok." He must be talking about something else, so I just let it go and take his hand. Which is cold.

"did you bring them?" He asks and glances behind me again.

I draw my brows. "Bring what?"

"Them." He nods behind me so I look, but no one is there. Oh my goodness gracious, James is hallucinating.

"do you know them?" If he's seeing things, it's probably best to just go along with him. And I dont know if he thinks they are good or bad people in his mind.

"no its not," he says, I assume, to someone he sees. He must not have heard my question.

"Jim, we have to go." This time he actually follows me to the cab and we get in. I direct the cab to 410 Lyon Avenue and give James his things, the wallet, phone, and gum. He just looks at them for a moment, seemingly unsure of the point of the items. He turns to the window and just stares outside. I take his hand, figuring there is no point in conversation. He looks at my hand and responds, holding mine, too, making me smile.

After a few moments, he stares out the window and starts mumbling something. I listen carefully, trying to make it out, it's so softly spoken. "...Always treasured times like those. Before we got the kids, Papi and I would take our black chow mix out for walks and he would invent all sorts of adventures and stories, the silliest rhymes and stupid little games that somehow I would end up loving. Games are basically the foundation of childhood and adulthood if you do it right. Look at you go, Mr. Psychologist..." I cant believe it. He's repeating the exact conversation we had the night we lost track of time on our walk. "...Have to teach me, then. Or does that spoil your fun? That depends. But I might teach you anyway..." He glances between the cars, his wallet, my hand in his...it doesn't matter what he is looking at. He keeps telling our story, the night of our walk. And it's amazing. "...Majored in? Yeah, besides that one. Reading and writing. Would you believe I loved reading so much that my parents used to have to ground me from books and put restrictions on my school library cards? Really? That's love if I ever heard it. Just think..." Listening to him, I can actually re-live that evening. I am so lost in what he is saying, or rather, repeating, I barely notice him tearing his gum to pieces when he let go of my hand.

"This is your destination," the cabbie says, pulling me out of my trance.

I glance out the window and see multiple police cars in James' house. "Would you mind taking us to the local hotel instead, please?" I ask.

James looks up and stop muttering our conversation. Seizing the attention he is currently paying to me, I ask, "How long did you think it would take for the wild card to take effect?" I wonder if he'll even understand my question enough to answer me.

"Wild card," he mumbles, drawing his brows in confusion. After a few seconds he says, "A card game." He draws his brows again, trying to figure out what I was asking. "OH! you."

I surpress a chuckle and just smile. "Yes, me."

"yes, i like you," James says.

I chuckle and say, "I like you, too." Obviously he can't comprehend my question. It was worth the try, though.

The cab stops again, this time we are at the hotel. We go inside and James decides to sit in the waiting room while I am getting our rooms. By the time I return, though, he is fast asleep. Oh, poor James. I shake him a gently and call his name a few times in effort to wake him up. It doesn't work. I start pulling on his arm because there is no way I am carrying him. "Lets get u into a bed, James." He actually looks exasperated, which is a good sign for me. I pull him a little more and takes his hand from me. He uses both hands to stand up. I steady him; poor James looks like he's about to completely fall over. "Don't worry, you'll be in bed very soon," I tell him gently and lead him to his hotel room. He collapses into the bed in no time flat. I take one of the extra blankets and lay it on top of him and whisper, "good night."

I go to my adjoining hotel room to leave him be until tomorrow.