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STONE - Chapter 9-Dream (ReaderxSherlock)

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This chapter is when reading ReaderxSherlock - Dream will be important so that you know what's going on. If you haven't read it, please do so so this will make more sense. :) fav.me/d6huvn3
For this chapter, (d/u) means dream university, (h/s) means home state (if you don't live in America, just think of the state you'd like to live in), and (A/N) means aunt's name. ;)
Chapter 9 - Dream

"(F/N)!...(F/N)!" a distant baritone calls to you. It takes only a moment for you to register who the rumbling voice belongs to.

"Sherlock?" you murmur as you squint your eyes open. It takes a few seconds for your vision to clear before you meet the pale eyes of the detective shaking you. "How'd you get here?"

"Actually I'm not here. You're dreaming. But this is the only way I can speak to you so I can figure out where you are." He kneels behind you to unwrap the rope around your wrists and ankles while he talks. Strange how even in a dream you can't imagine yourself free. "Now, can you remember any clearer the room you are in? This room is formed by your memories. Where. Are. You?"

You subconsciously run your thumb over the raw flesh around your arms and search through the darkness, as if staring into the black will help you formulate the images. The dim light above you brightens once you recall a little of what you saw. All that surrounds you is cement, and the detective rubs the back of his neck.

"This isn't helping. You don't know anything?"

"I—I..." You begin to panic, trying to find the section in your mind where there might be a picture of the place you're locked in. You stand and walk around, hoping to stimulate your memory. "Th—they turned on a light for only a few minutes. A—and even when the room was lit, I was paying attention to the man in front of me."

Sherlock grips your shoulders, pinning his eyes to yours. "Can you at least describe him? The man who's keeping you, did he say his name?"

You break from his contact, not able to think under pressure. "He...he stood there." As you say this, the silhouette of a person forms in the place you point and you fill in the details of it as you explain his appearance. But before you can begin to illustrate his face, a thunderous roll shakes the room surrounding you. You look to Sherlock and he shares the same expression of shock and confusion you're feeling. None of you are doing this.

The concrete walls start to crumble and the floor beneath you cracks. The unfinished example of your captor fades into nothing as you have other things on your mind at the moment. "Sherlock!" you cry as the ground breaks into a fissure, splitting the two of you apart. You stretch your hand out toward him as the stone pushes farther away from itself, hoping you can reach and pull back to the safety of his arms.

"A name! Just tell me his name!" he shouts over the din of destruction encircling you.

You watch as the tips of your fingers begin to dissolve into the familiar white crystals. "Mo—!" Suddenly you're being rattled awake. A rough hand slaps across your face, snapping you out of your daze.

"Morning, Sleepy-Head." a sing-song voice cuts into you. You groan, knowing full well who's speaking to you like you're a child. "I can take it from here, Sebastian." Moriarty waves off the bulky, bald man crouched in from of you. Your cheek still stings as you watch the broad-shouldered henchman stalk away. "Can't have you giving out information. That's cheating." He waves a finger disapprovingly. "Sherlock needs to solve this with no help from you."

"Wait," you interrupt. "how did you know I was talking to Sherlock?" You then scold yourself for giving him the answer to his possibly naïve suspicions. You can't be so careless.

He sighs. "You can't be serious! You must be more clever than that!" Your expression just twists further into confusion. "You really are dull." He begins pacing back and forth in front of you and you straighten your back to sit up as tall as you can.

"I know about your little lucid dreams. How you two can communicate while sleeping. Really it was quite obvious. I've been keeping watch on Sherlock for a long time now and I even got the privilege of hiding a video camera and microphone in his flat. Nothing really too exciting happened until one night two months ago. I caught Sherlock talking in his sleep. This was very peculiar for the man who barely speaks at all. All he muttered, thought, were random words that couldn't be connected. But the next night, he was speaking again and he uttered a name this time. (F/N) (L/N).

Your heart skips a beat. Memories of your second dream with Sherlock flood back to you all at once.

"Hello again, Miss..." Sherlock furrows his brows as he tries to formulate your name.

"(F/N) (L/N)." you fill him in.

"(F/N) (L/N)," he repeats like he wants to hear it from his own mouth. "Are you positive? I was sure it was something else." He dismisses the thought with a flick of his wrist and you continue the conversation in a different direction.


So that means, that while one is in someone else's dream, the discussions they conduct in it have fragments from them said out loud in their sleep. What comes out as incoherent words, are really complete sentences spoken in the lucid dream. And unless someone regularly talks while they're asleep, it makes it pretty easy to tell if they're with someone else in their dream.

"I then drew out all I could find of this name," Moriarty carries on, not at all caring about your reminiscing. "You would not believe all the information I found just from two, insignificant words." He bends down to your eye level, only inches from your face, and stares into your pupils; looking for some kind of reaction you will not giving him. He returns to his irritating pacing after a few minutes of silence.

"You really get around. Graduated from (d/u). Special Agent of the FBI in (h/s). And coincidently, you were in London just two months ago by the payment of (A/N)'s debit card. But the oddest thing was that during your time here you stopped at a convention and waved at someone across the crowd. And they seemed to look at you like you'd known each other for quite some time."

"Who do you think I was waving to?" you ask with contempt and—quite frankly—annoyance. "If you think you're so smart, tell me that."

"Sherlock Holmes!" he exclaims as he throws his hands into the air. "Try to keep up, I'm not going to spell everything out for you. Or are you really that dumb?" You glare at his condescending grin. "If you aren't, then inform me of who 'requested' you to become a Legal Attaché. Who sent you all those text messages giving you little hints."

Your eyes widen. "You're M!? But—but you've been so helpful! You provided useful information that was used not only to solve several cases, but was also used in court! What could you possibly gain if this was your plan all along?" You gesture with your shoulders and neck around the empty room. "Why, of all people, would you want me?"

Moriarty stoops to your height again. "Because you stole something from me that I want back."

"I've never even met you before! How could I have taken something of yours?"

"You stole my distraction: That consulting detective you FOLLOW EVERYWHERE!" His previously playful voice is replaced with such a menacing and rage-filled tone, you unconsciously flinch away as the words strike your skin. "Trailing behind him like a lost child, caring for him like he's injured. So hopelessly in love. So naïve."

His speech turns to a whisper but still retains its dangerous level. "Did it ever occur to you that Sherlock Holmes is incapable of love? That you've been too blinded by your own emotions to see who he really is? YOU NEVER MEANT ANYTHING TO HIM!"

Moriarty backs away to allow you to dissect all of what he's told you. But right as you begin replaying the conversation in your head, he breaks your thoughts. "But that won't matter in a few hours." Just his wide, toothy smile is enough to send chills down your spine.

Sherlock, please help me you shamefully plead in your mind.

~Sherlock's POV~

I stand, frozen, unable to do anything as (F/N) disintegrates into millions of clear jewels. Soon after, the ground beneath me opens up and I begin falling into the abyss. I simply allow my body to go limp and watch as the black quickly clears into a floor of tall, pointed rocks. I can't even wake myself before one of the peaked pillars pierces me through. I almost leap from my sofa as I lunge off the cushions, gripping my chest where I was stabbed by the stone. I choke on every breath I draw in as if there's a thick liquid in my lungs. A thin layer of sweat plasters my fringe to my forehead and I wait for my pulse to slow to a more relaxed pace.

All I'm left with to find (F/N) is a name she wasn't even able to finish. Mo—. There are hundreds of names that begin with those two letters. And she didn't even tell me if it was a surname or not.

Suddenly my mobile vibrates in my pocket. Lestrade I read from the alarmingly bright screen. 'Yes?' I answer with a drawl.

'Do you ever just say "hello?" —Never mind. So no new news about (F/N) (L/N)?'

'No,' I sigh, 'nothing of too much importance.'

'Have you searched her flat for evidence? You don't have to if you think there won't be anything. I just thought you'd like to have the first view of the place while everything's sill untouched.'

I don't have any leads at the moment. Even if it's something small, it wouldn't hurt to check. 'I'm just going to. Ta.' Without waiting for a reply, I end the call and stride to (F/N)'s flat.

Unlocked. She left so fast she didn't even think about locking her door.

Her flat doesn't show anything obvious, beside the fact that she clearly wasn't expecting any visitors. Files and other work related papers are scattered across a table and not in any sort of organization.

I begin skimming through some of the documents when a chime catches my ear. (F/N)'s mobile. Even that escaped her mind. But why, of course, would she need it if she was just going out for a short walk?

I ignore the alert and continue what I was previously doing until, no more than twenty seconds later, another alarm interrupts my calm silence. I would have disregarded that one also if a third sound hadn't emitted from the device.

I begrudgingly pick up the phone and view the newest messages. Three texts. All from a BLOCKED NUMBER.

Message 1
HELLO, SHERLOCK. YOU BETTER GET THIS TEXT, OTHERWISE SOMETHING MIGHT HAPPEN TO YOUR LITTLE GIRLFRIEND. -M


The signature. M. The name (F/N) tried to tell me before she woke up began with M. Could this be the same man? It has to be if he's texting (F/N)'s mobile, knows my name, and our...connection.

Message 2
NAUGHTY BOY. LOOKING THROUGH A GIRL'S MESSAGES? BUT I SHOULDN'T STOP YOU. THIS MAY BE YOUR ONLY CHANCE TO FIND HER. -M

Message 3
HERE, I'LL HELP YOU. I KNOW YOU LOVE PUZZLES, BUT NOT AS MUCH AS SOLVING THEM. -M


BRRING A new text.

BLOCKED NUMBER
1. It has a tongue but no mouth,
   With a sole but no body.
   It has nothing to hide,
   But keeps a good secret inside.

   It's been everywhere, everyplace,
   But it has no say in the matter.
   We rely on it all our lives,
   Yet overtime it's worn out and of no use anymore.


BRRING

BLOCKED NUMBER
2. Used for large storing
   But often left empty.
   Used for the birth of creations,
   Yet also for their destruction.

   The ghosts linger in the old structure,
   Their visions clouded with white,
   Unable to see the crowds
   Carefully observing the whole site.


BRRING

BLOCKED NUMBER
3. Broken fragments from a stone heart,
   There is but a dim light,
   Stitched together by sweet sweet memories.
   Oh, how the time flies by at night.

   The end shall be where it all began.
   From illusion to reality.
   But don't get distracted for too long,
   For there is still a larger game to be played.


I frown at the texts. 'I don't like riddles,' I complain aloud.

BRRING

BLOCKED NUMBER
LEARN TO -M


A/N: Now think for a moment. Really think. Can you solve these riddles before Sherlock does? Try! But don't give up easily. ;)

All right, I'll start with the first one. Hmph, already an idiot. He misspelled soul—wait, what if that was intentional? Then the way it's spelled...it's talking about the bottom of a shoe. Of course! But the last two lines of the first stanza...what could that possibly mean? And why would the answer be a shoe—

Suddenly it occurs to me. The BANDE case. It has nothing to hide, But keeps a good secret inside. The shoes they made contained packets of cocaine in the heels. Then are all of the riddles connected to that case?

I read the second text again. Yes! The answer is a warehouse. More specifically, the BANDE warehouse. That must be where (F/N) is. These riddles were easier than I expected.

I'm about to set the mobile down when I remember the third text. It has absolutely nothing pertaining to the other messages. Why so cryptic?...I can't waste any more time! I've got to save (F/N).

I sprint out of the flat, dropping the phone with a clank as it hits the table. I throw the door closed behind me but I don't care if it doesn't shut. I almost fly down the steps and burst outside into the cool air. I breathe a quick apology as I nearly collide with three people passing by and hail a taxi. I shout to the driver the directions—with maybe a word or two relating to hurry—and the car sails down the street.

Not five minutes later, the cab comes to a complete stop. 'Sorry, sir,' says the cabbie as his head turns to the side slightly. 'There seems to have been a big accident up ahead. I can't move. This may be a while.'

I don't have enough time for this.

I practically kick open the door of the car and toss a bundle of notes into the front. I then begin running to the cab's previous destination, pretending not to hear the shouts of the driver behind me.

Nothing will interrupt me. I'm coming, (F/N). For you and for M
Right turn. Fifteen metres. Left at road sign. I'm nearly there. The grey building is within sight. I can hardly give thought to how much adrenaline my body must be using to keep me from falling over in exhaustion. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears but nothing will deter me from my goal.

Details of the metal warehouse become clearer as I approach it. But what I see next shocks me to the point of disbelief. (F/N) is stepping out. She's walking away from the—!

The next few seconds feel like hours as the sound of a bullet explodes in the air. Her name is irrepressibly shot from my lips when I watch (F/N) slowly collapse to the ground. A perfect red flower blooms onto the white sheet of the snow.

How could I be so close but still unable to do anything?
Gah! Another cliffhanger! But hooray for a longer chapter! :la:

I never thought writing Moriarty would be so hard. :iconrelievedplz: I repeatedly watched scenes with him in it just so I could get his character down!

if you want, here's the link to the thumbnail. edited by me: fav.me/d6uvwqi

Comments are always appreciated! :dummy:

Eighth Chapter
Ninth Chapter You're here!
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cytez-kaimee's avatar
I got shoe for the first riddle but couldn't do the next ones.... I actually just sat there when I first saw the riddles and tried to solve them all..... obviously im no sherlock... ),:
but GODDAMIT MORIARTYY, WHYD YOU GO AND FRICKEN SHOOT ME??