SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

the girl

Pale hands lay timidly on a mahogany desk. Small feet pressed nervously against the hardwood floor, knees clasped together. Her frame was small from the hips up, giving her an impish appearance, though her face showed no signs of mischief or deceit. Her red lips, parted ever so slightly to release the hitched breathing, moved in a two syllable name. Her large brown eyes, two orbs that reflected heaven, stared out at the cream colored ceiling in front of her. Her hair, cropped short in the back and trimmed all around in a feminine fashion blew gently from the wind entering her open window. One pale hand dropped beside her hip and she wrapped the fingers around the edge of the chair. She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear glistening against her pink cheeks.

In a desperate gasp, she shoved the chair out from underneath her and ran to the door on the other side of the room. She threw it open and charged through, a mission burning in her mind. She went down a carpeted hallway, one that made her uneasy from the unnecessary amount of opulence the hotel had put into just a hall. She stepped onto an elevator and pressed the “down” button. The elevator made a small jolt and then descended smoothly. After three dings! the elevator’s sliding doors opened and the girl marched out. She passed several rooms until she found a black phone sitting on a round, glass table. She picked up the receiver and dialed a number she could dial with her eyes closed.

The line picked up and gruff, but pleasant voice answered. “Yes?”

“Andrew,” the girl began breathlessly, “Please, tell me he’s all right.”

“Ah, Aceyla, you again. Where are you located this time? Or are you cleverly moving around to confuse us?”

“You know your equipment has been destroyed; you’ll never find me through electronics.”

“I know, your detective friend is really good at tracking us. He disabled our connection with the hospital as well. And, he also led us into a trap. I don’t know where he is, we lost contact. Perhaps, you can tell us?”

Aceyla’s light voice, touched with a Turkish accent, protested, “I won’t. Even if I did, I wouldn’t.”

“So, you don’t even know where he is?” Andrew sneered.

“That’s correct. Please, Andrew, please, stop all of this. Leave Sherlock alone.”

The receiver jumped from the vibrating laugh roaring through the other end. “Leave him alone? You’re lucky you were once on good terms with us or I would’ve killed Sherlock way before now. You know why we can’t do this, don’t you? I would love to hear why you think we shouldn’t let you see Mr. Holmes?”

Aceyla placed an unsteady hand against the wall and exhaled slowly. “Because Sherlock and I know things that could take over the British and American government, for us to unite would make us unstoppable.”

“You’re correct. Now, it’s a game with us, too. Do you get to Sherlock, or do I? Either way, Sherlock would be surprised, especially since he thought he’s hidden you.”

“He doesn’t have to know I’m looking for him.”

“Don’t make me kill the doctor, too, or the landlady, or the little girl. You must reveal your location Aceyla, that would stop everything.”

The girl bit down on her bottom lip and clashed the receiver back onto the rest of its body. She turned away from the phone and stepped back onto the elevator. Gnawing on a worn-down fingernail, she began thinking of her next plan. She had no way of contacting Sherlock, as she knew calling him by his personal number would probably jeopardize both their lives. The elevator door opened and she walked briskly down the hall back to her hotel room. She walked through the room, not worried that she had left the door open as she only had two suitcases packed and tucked under the bed. The rest of the room was arranged the first day she had arrived.

With determination in every movement, she pulled her suitcases out, slipped her apartment key into her pocket to return it at the front desk, and grabbed her necklace from the mantel. She exited the room, closing the door behind her and quickly made down to the lobby. When she arrived at the receptionist’s desk, she gave a polite smile and placed the return items on the counter.

“Are you checking out, ma’am?”

“Yes,” Aceyla replied.

“You enjoy your time in the States, Ms. Carter?” the lady asked in an American accent as she logged Aceyla’s information into the computer.

“Yes,” Aceyla said again, glancing at the round clock behind the receptionist.

“Here’s your receipt, and thank you so much again. Come back to Florida!”

“Thank you, have a nice one.” She grabbed her suitcases and headed for the doors. With each step, she had a sinking feeling she was being followed. She looked twice over her shoulders and noticed a man in a black suit walking a few yards behind her. Aceyla closed her eyes, whispered a prayer, and continued to walk. She looked at the desks and signs behind her, hoping to catch his reflection. And when she did, he seemed to be closer with every look. Finally, she stopped at the entrance, slipped on her sunglasses, and pretended to look at the tourist attractions. The man in the suit came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

Aceyla had no choice but to look up and act surprised and then inquisitive. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes,” the man began, “your suitcase lost a wheel, thought you’d like to know.” The man, like a magic trick, revealed a black wheel that had indeed popped off during her hurrying.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t notice.” Aceyla placed a hand on her heart and used the other hand to take the wheel from him.

“Have a good day,” the man said, giving her a nod and then leaving the building.

Aceyla made to attach the wheel to the luggage before she noticed white writing all around the rim. She stopped and read it: he’s headed to the Netherlands. – MH. Aceyla jumped to her feet and tried to locate the man again, but he had already disappeared. Smiling to herself, she knew the Holmes brothers were protecting her. It also reminded her that Mycroft Holmes was a better detective than Sherlock, so it was of no surprise that the older Holmes would also be involved, if not know more than his brother. But, it didn’t matter who knew more, Aceyla knew she would be cared for wherever she went.

After she rubbed the writing off the wheel and stuck it back on her suitcase, she rolled out and began heading towards the bus station. She wasn’t really sure why Sherlock was heading towards the Netherlands, only to probably settle everything. She hoped that she would see him in time before Andrew found him. For she knew if he found both of them in the same place, he would not hesitate to kill them on the spot. Aceyla was a brave woman, older beyond her years, and incredibly smart. Through her times being in the Royal atmosphere with her mother being the lady-in-waiting and then in the presence of a man like Moriarty, she knew both sides of the story, and she understood both Sherlock and John’s approach to the situation. She had loved Alana as well, and she wanted to help Sherlock in more reasons than one, but the biggest reason was that she felt responsible for Alana’s death.

When the bus pulled up, Aceyla boarded it and then tugged through the legs stretched out in the pathway. She scowled at those who rudely refused to pull back, or the ones who just wanted to see how she’d execute the “obstacle course.” Once she had found her seat in the back by the window, she placed her suitcase under her feet and rested an elbow on the sill. She moved her eyes to the sidewalk and waited for all to pass by. She hoped to get to the airport before noon, but she was never sure, especially if something was to happen unexpectedly.