Chapter Twenty-Nine

I saw that guy go in there," Lydia said, pointing to the dirty, unstable building she had led us to.  "When he went in, I also saw Scottie.  I immediately found my mobile to tell you."  Then, she added, "I'm so sorry if it's too late."

Suddenly, Moriarty himself came out the door, and stopped in front of us.  "Are you here for that kid that calls himself 'Scottie'?" He chuckled.  "Fine, take him, but I have more in store for you."

I stood frozen.  Did he actually mean just take him? I followed Sherlock's lead into the building.  It was dark, and water dripped from some pipes on the ceiling.

I wanted to know where Scottie was, because he wasn't right inside.  Sherlock started looking in other room, and I followed him.  I should have split up, but I felt unusually dependant.

How many times have I said this? Again, I'm sorry for this chapter's choppiness.

Finally, Sherlock yelled, "Here!"

Lydia had left after Scottie ran to me with his blanket flying after him.  I never did find out why.

I held Scottie in my arms, not even thinking about the tears that were rolling down my face.  Scottie sobbed into my shoulder.  Sherlock came over a moment later, and hugged us both.  It was a beautiful group hug full of love and tears that I will never forget, ever.

"You're still gonna lose," cackled an icy voice from far away.  The Irish in it killed me.

Hasn't he interrogated us enough?!

I didn't want to hear, see or think about Moriarty at that moment, and his voice shot a wave of rage and fury through my body that I had not experienced before.

I put my hand over the gun in my pocket, ready to use it at any time.  Scottie was still clinging to me, shivering, and I didn't want to let go of him, not yet.

Sherlock was still crouched down before Scottie, and oddly sniffing every ten seconds or so.  I don't think he ever wanted ever this much emotion at one time.  Over the years, it was too much.

Moriarty was standing there, staring at us from afar, and soon, I began to hear a creak from the ceiling above us.  It turned to shuffling, and then, it sounded like the roof was crumbling to pieces, and chunks of ceiling fell down with a clang in the floor.

If the fucking building comes down.  If this building comes. Down.

I scooped up Scottie, forgetting that he was heavy, and Sherlock and I ran from that place like our shoes had little rockets.

I looked back once before we were all the way out, and saw Moriarty, in his now dust-infested suit, yelling at some guy that had appeared out of nowhere.  I couldn't hear him over the sound of my blood pumping in my ears, but he was mad.  I wonder why.

The entire roof caved in, and I am ninety-nine point nine nine nine nine nine nine nine percent sure that Moriarty never left.  The very thought still made me smile weakly.

We stood outside the stupid rubbish pile of that building, still raw from crying, and shaking off the feeling of the entire day.  But we all knew, even Scottie probably, that this was not leaving our memories.

Sherlock took my hand, I took Scottie's, and Scottie took hold of his dirty blue blanket.  We walked home, pieces of random roof still caught in our hair.