Hooked (teenlock)

Chapter Twelve

John's car was a beat-up old thing, but it ran well enough. The blogger took on the task of driving, while I settled into the passenger seat. He put in a CD by someone named Beyonce (which I found perfectly absurd, since that's such an uncommon name) and we began our journey.

It was strange to see the whole of London pass by us in a blur as we drove. The only attention I'd ever paid to the city had been forced by those bloody words that had a habit of popping into vision, deducing things for me. The ride was quiet, uneventful. I reviewed the events of the day multiple times, considering the other outcomes that could have surfaced had Lilly reacted differently to my sudden outburst.

Before I knew it, we were pulling up to the Sussex Heritage Park. I couldn't deny that the views were reasonably nice to look at, as the park was on the Southern coast of England. Even on a cloudy day, the grass was a brilliant green, stretching across the park and to the Southern cliffs that rose high and mighty over the ocean.

Two figures, miniscule due to their distance, stood just beside one of these cliffs, staring out into the waves. The rest of the park was empty.

"That's them, then?" I hadn't realized it, but John had exited the car to join me.

"Must be."

He looked at me, sea winds throwing his hair about, despite its short length. "You know, Sherlock, this could be it."

"'It?'"

The blogger rolled his eyes. "You know. The end of the case."

"You really believe Moriarty has this right?"

"It's the only lead we've got now that Lilly's been figured out."

I peeled away from his brown eyes, focusing back out on the ocean. I didn't want to believe that Moriarty was correct and I was, well, not. "I suppose we should go find out, then."

A sense of finality washed over me as John took hold of my hand and we walked towards Moriarty and Loraine. Something was ending here, that was for sure. No matter how much I wanted my way, if Moriarty was correct... That was it. There was no possible way to change that this late in the game.

Jim turned around to meet us as soon as John and I were within five feet. "Boys! Hello! How was the drive?"

John nodded. "It wen-"

"John, I don't actually care," Moriarty said, putting his hand up to silence the blonde. "Anyways, you both remember Loraine?"

Upon hearing her name, Loraine unfastened her gaze from the endless stretch of water and turned to John and I. "Hello again."

She seemed different this time. Less confident. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes were wide, her mouth was clenched- anyone with half a brain could see how frightened she was.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Right. Hi. Formality, formality, formality. Jim, I don't like spending my leisure time anywhere around you, so if we could speed all of this up, that'd be just grand."

Moriarty's eyebrows shot towards the cloudy sky above us in surprise. "Now, now, Sherlock! You spent so long working on this case that I figured you had no great desire for speed." He spoke in entirely annoying purrs, as though he was fully convinced that part of him was actually a cat. "You can't just spring this on me."

I put a hand up. "Stop talking, you're unbearable. Loraine." She looked to me as though she thought no one had been able to see her. "What's your story?"

She cleared her throat. "I never liked Molly Hooper. She was annoying. Whenever she came into the Attendant, she would order the most difficult things. It slowed us all down, killed our processes. Almost every day, too!"