Before I Forget Me | Teen Ink

Before I Forget Me

July 1, 2012
By Heaven_Leigh_96, Montezuma, Iowa
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Heaven_Leigh_96, Montezuma, Iowa
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Favorite Quote:
Excuse me while I kiss the sky - Jimi Hendrix

Author's note: I was inspired to write this piece after I had read the complete works of Sherlock Holmes. I was sitting in class one day and decided to pull out a sheet of paper and write.

Cool hands clamped over my eyes as I typed. “Keep typing.” My brother growled into my ear. “How much do you remember?”

Hello Brother.

He snorted and hot breath slid down the back of my neck.

How have you been?

“Been better.” He sighed and applied more pressure on my eyes. “What do you remember?” His voice showed the impatience that he was famous for.

Are you and your lover fighting? Now I was pushing him into dangerous ground. I wanted to see how much of my interrogation he could take before he freaked out.

He snorted and let go. “Jon and I are none of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” I rose from my desk and walked away from him to gaze out a window. I must have worked all through the night; the sky was a peachy color and rays of sunlight shone through the royal purple curtains turning them a shockingly light shade of blue. “If Jon and you are none of my business, why are you in my house?” Rain lightly peppered the window in front of me. “A better question would be why you didn’t knock but knowing you the answer would be something so ridiculous that you’d just piss me off.” I turned and walked back to my brother who had sat down in the desk chair. I brushed dampened short, black curls off his forehead. Water droplets slid down his nose before I caught them with my fingertips. “After next week, Jon will be family. He’ll be a Holmes then and I think that makes him part of business.” I smiled softly at my stubborn brother. “Sher, you’re not the only one who loves men.”

The fight drained from his green eyes. “Yeah.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know.”

“You know but you don’t want to ask your younger sister for help.” I leaned down and hugged my brother, burying my face in his damp coat. “If you’re going to keep breaking into my house, you could at least leave your damp coat in the hall.” I grumbled into the rough wool. “It stinks. I need to wash it.”

Sherlock snorted and playfully pushed me away from him. “You’re the one who left the front door unlocked. He paced the room for a few minutes. His fingers roamed over everything he could touch. I cringed when he stopped to look at my bookcase. He glanced over at me with an arched eyebrow. He finally came to rest on a black loveseat in the corner of the room further away from me. “You still haven’t answered my question,” His British accent clipped his words. “What do you remember?”
I sighed and looked down at the suddenly interesting carpet below my feet. “I haven’t forgotten him.”

Sherlock leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and cradling his face with his hands. “Oh? Do you remember everything that Mycroft and I taught you?”

I sat down at my desk and returned to what I had been typing. “Don’t worry you British Lug; I haven’t forgotten your precious teachings.”

Another snort from the corner of the room. “When Mycroft told me that you had gone missing, I thought he was playing an ill-humored joke on me.” Sherlock slowly said, drawing each word out with caution.

I turned to face him before he continued. “And yet here I am. Sitting in my own house with my own life.” Outside thunder rumbled. I knew I had annoyed Sherlock with my sudden interruption. “I’m old enough to live on my own without you two breathing down my back.

Sherlock shook his head. “Your house is under the name ‘Elona Reverof ’. Alone forever. Were you trying to tell us something?” He was amused. Sherlock gave me his infamous smirk. “Ala, you might be able to slip out of Mycroft’s gaze and control, but I will always be there looking over your shoulder. We wouldn’t want you to have another issue with a past lover again.”

The desire to smack him across the face burned in my arms. Sure, Sherlock Holmes was my brother and just because he was overly protective didn’t mean that he was always nice about my mistakes.

I took a deep breath. “Do I have to remind you about that cute little Danish man you dated before Jon stumbled into your arms?”

Angry Emerald slits glared at me. “Don’t you dare bring up Lars!” He couldn’t hide the fact that he still cared for him from me; I knew that man too well.

“Oh? So why can you bring up my past lovers but I can’t bring up yours?” I kept my voice light.

Sherlock leaned back into the loveseat with a soft sigh. “You won’t be exchanging vows will the person you know that you’ll live with the rest of your life.” His voice turned quieter towards the end of his statement.

I tried not to laugh and failed epically. I stifled as many giggles as I could. “Did Jon tell you that?”

Sherlock frowned. “Which part?”

“From ‘live’ to the end.” I laughed again when he nodded. I stopped when I saw sadness creep its way into my brother’s eyes. “Sherlock.” I paused to make sure he was paying attention and not reliving some memory that he kept stored away. “Why are you here?”

He took a sharp breath and studied the carpet in front of him. “You’re right.” Sherlock was fighting to keep his voice still. A fight that he was rapidly losing. “I had a fight with Jon.”

I gave him a sad smile. “Want to know how I figured it out?”

Sherlock lurched from the loveseat and the space between us vanished. “Did Jon call you?” His green eyes bore into mine. “He had to have!” Anger filled his eyes. “Damn it Ala! Tell me!”

A bitter laugh slipped from me. “The legendary Sherlock Holmes wrong.” I rose from the chair to put some more room between us. “I haven’t seen Jon since you broke your arm chasing down a crazy person.” I was surprised at the anger in my voice. “Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.”

He nodded and slowly sank onto the carpet. “If anyone knew, it would ruin me.” Sherlock’s guard went down. Flushed out of him with the tears that fell from his face. This proved he cared; whether it be his job or about Jon I wasn’t sure though.

“Just because you love a man does not mean those who don’t are any better at their job than you are.” I laid down beside him and put my head on his lap. “Sher, you’re the best detective I know.” I rose quickly and caught a teardrop with my pinky. “After all, I only learn from the best.”

He softly chuckled. “Soon though, you’re going to be better than I am.”

I grinned and wormed my way into the circle of his arms. “When you retire maybe.” My nose bumped his cheek. “Besides, you promised we could open ‘a family business’”.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Must have slipped my mind.”

I snorted. “Yeah right.” I pulled away to look him in the eye. Emerald stared into Sapphire. “Are you staying tonight?”

He nodded. “He’s still pissed at me.”

I arched an eyebrow. “After the first two days, I figured he’d let up. That doesn’t sound like Jon, what did you guys even fight about?”

Surprise filled his face before a frown embraced his pale lips. “I know. He won’t even let me in the house to get clean clothes.” He didn’t speak for a couple minutes. “We fought over how protective I am of you.”

Shame filled me. I had complained to Jon over the phone about how much I hated having Sherlock and Mycroft trying to track me down. I had caused friction between the cutest damn couple I had ever seen. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to get you some clothes; I still have some from last time you stayed over.”

“I’m shocked. I would have thrown them out if I were in your shoes.” Sherlock’s smile reached his eyes causing them shimmer with unshed tears.

“Sher, I’d love to see you try to walk in five inch heels.” I smiled and rose from the floor. “I’m going to get your clothes; you wanna start making the guest bed?”

I didn’t give him a chance to reply. I walked into my room and stopped at the foot of my bed. There were two storage ottomans sitting there. One was pure black and the other was a zebra print. I pulled the lid off the black one and pulled out the clothes that sat in it.

Sherlock already had the bed made when I walked into the guest room. He smiled when I handed him his clothes. “Why am I making the bed if it’s early morning?”

“Neither of us have slept. I was working all through the night and you were in the bushes waiting for me to go to sleep. Not to mention that doing that makes you seem really crazy, but when I hadn’t gone to sleep by six thirty, you prepared to jimmy my lock only to find it unlocked.” I grinned. “However my dear Sherlock, I would have locked that door had I not known you’d show up here.” He arched an eyebrow and waited for me to continue. “I saw you yesterday in the store. I noticed you grabbed only a couple of things and since Jon usually does the shopping, I knew something was up. Therefore, I followed you on foot after I out my purchase the trunk. I followed you to a hotel and watched you check in.”

He nodded. “Why didn’t I see you?”

“I always find ways to blend into the crowd. Yesterday I was dressed like an office clerk. Pale smoke grey suit with a brown wig.”

Sherlock pursed his lips. “That was you?” When I nodded, he shook his head. “I was so sure that it was our neighbor, I paid no attention to you.” He grinned. “But why the wig?’

I ran my fingers through my fiery red hair. “This hair can get anyone noticed. I didn’t want to get bugged by anyone since I was in a hurry.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. I do that a lot.”

“So now you know where I get it.” I laughed.

Sherlock laughed too before he suddenly yawned. “Ala, I’m going to bed.”

I grin. “Good plan. See you in the afternoon.”

Troubled dreams and haunting memories flash before my eyes each time they would drift close. Finally, I realized that sleep was no option. I crawled out of bed and went into my office. I pulled out a sheet of paper and sat there watching as the lines blurred together before I bothered to get a pen to write with.

Once the pen touched the paper, nothing else mattered.

“Killer Clown”

Tears that have fallen down my face

Gather in a pool around my feet.

My fears are coming true.

You don’t love me anymore.

I can see the hate fill your eyes.

You say that I’m just a useless

F*** Up.

I can’t do anything right anymore

If you won’t love me then

I will hate you with such a passion.

Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?

I can’t breathe anymore

My heart stopped beating

My soul has been devoured,

I am evil.

My friend stares at me from across the room

Waiting for me to lose my cool

To use him on my wrist.

Will I?

You caused this mess, now finish it.

Don’t stop hating,

Don’t stop killing me slowly,

Lock me up

Throw away my key

Just keep him away from me.

It’s all to late

You can’t stop him anymore

No more will I listen to you,

Instead of my wrist,

Should it be my neck?

Do you wish that you had never met me?

Wish that all the damage I had caused vanished?

Like a cloud of smoke in the wind?

If I end both of our misery,

Would they understand?

Would they understand if

My life ends today?

Would they laugh at me?

Spit on my grave?

Does this make sense to you?

Does the fact that I refuse to

Cower before you cause anger?

Do I cause the insanity to flare?

Am I the reason why you yell?

Did I kill you too?

Am I just crying for nothing?

Was there anything between us?

Am I just a fool?

Tricked by love,

The emotion that causes pain.

It started out okay.

Why couldn’t I see that

You weren’t feeling

The same that I was?

(He’s calling out to me)

I’m scared, I can’t see

The light at the end of my tunnel.

Is it true that I’m the Devil’s daughter,

Damned to Hell

From the day I was born?

Is this the way my light’s supposed to go out?

Am I going to be the one who

Makes everyone laugh?

Am I just

The Killer Clown?

I wiped away tears that had blotted the paper as I wrote. Why had he come back the surface of my memories? I shook my head. I was pathetic. Four years later and I still have nightmares about James Moriarty.

I had met James at a diner where I waited tables. James was a regular for about six months and we became quite good friends. One day, he asked me out to dinner and I didn’t even think about possible danger. A simple-minded seventeen-year-old girl from a small town really doesn’t know how evil the world can be, but Mr. James Moriarty taught me quite a few things about real life.

James taught me how to be an adult. Foolishly, I agreed to date him. He told me not to inform my brothers so I didn’t. Had I told my brothers, I’d probably be a lot better off than I am now. I wouldn’t have scars that circle my wrists and I wouldn’t have my brothers tracking my every step. However, I suppose everyone has skeletons in their closets. I can still remember the first time he hit me. I still remember how he apologized, pulled me next to him in bed and didn’t speak to me for three days. I remember how shocked I was that the man I loved wasn’t perfect. Then I sat down and really thought about the man I lived with. I thought about his habit of never leaving the house until it was night and how he always asked people to do this for him that seemed so simple. Then I thought about trying to tell Sherlock without James finding out, there had to be some way that I could do it, I just had to find it. We had been dating for four months when he decided that he had enough of me. I had just gotten home from work. He pulled a knife from its block in the kitchen and followed me into the bedroom where he grabbed me and cut my arm. I was sick to my stomach when I felt blood trailing down and pooling on the floor. He went to strike me again but I squirmed out of his reach and took off for the door. I reached it seconds before he did and ran into the hallway. James stopped at the doorway and stood there glaring. “Now Kayla, there is no reason to make a scene. Darling, just come inside and we can talk this out.” His steel grey eyes pleaded with me. I shook my head and began to walk away from him. I could hear him pleading with me to come back but I ignored it. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called Sherlock. It took him less than ten minutes to arrive but James had already fled through a window. Sherlock called Mycroft, they both packed up my belongings in boxes, and I moved in with Mycroft while Sherlock attempted to track Mr. James Moriarty down. He tracked for almost an entire year before a newspaper article caught my attention. Its headline spoke of a suicide in my old apartment. Deep inside I knew that James had killed himself and I told Sherlock to call off the search. So why after four years of therapy had he suddenly made reappearance in my mind? All the memories that I have of him are supposed to be suppressed. So why now? When would enough be enough? “Ala? Are you okay?” Sherlock asked softly. I gasped and somehow managed to slam my elbow on the chair. “Damn it!” I yelped as I rubbed my throbbing arm. “Sher don’t f*ing scare me like that!” He walked over to the desk. No wonder I hadn’t heard him walk in, he was barefoot. “Why were you crying?” I shrugged. “No reason. You know, one of those women things Mycroft is always complaining about.” “Uh huh.” He snatched the paper that I just wrote on. “‘Killer Clown’. Oh Ala.” He sighed and shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything to me about this? Are the memories coming back?” “No.” I lied. “I dunno what really was going on through my head.” I examined my nails. “I had a really bad dream.” I felt so childish for admitting that but I had to tell him. Sherlock nodded. “Have you been to bed yet?” I shook my head. “What part of bad dream didn’t you understand?” Sherlock laughed at me. “I understand now.” He touched my shoulder. “Maybe you should go see a therapist.” His voice was gentle. I was really worrying him. “How about if the dreams don’t stop by next week, I’ll go talk to Dr. Taylor again.” He nodded and rubbed my shoulders. “Are you going to put this one on your blog?” “I haven’t decided yet. I was going to give it to Jon and see what he could draw up for me.” I reached for my laptop. “Besides, I haven’t really checked my blog in a while.” He laughed. “I’m shocked. Before you moved in with Mycroft, that’s how I stayed up to date with what you were up to.” I arched an eyebrow. “Wait, you cared about me before I was involved with a criminally insane man?” Sherlock pursed his lips and looked down at the floor. Busted. “Yeah okay I get it.” He sighed. “I wasn’t a really good brother to you when we were little but I’m trying like hell to make up for it now.” “By breaking into my house?” I was seriously pissed. He narrowed his eyes. “It was unlocked.” “Could have knocked!” I snarled and clutched the pen I had been holding moments before too hard; ink splattered over my hand. “You would have ignored it!” He shot back. Sherlock walked over to the opposite side of my desk and grabbed a tissue for me to clean my hand off with. I took it from him with a growl. “So you should have went back to your hotel or back to Jon.” He shrugged. With that shrug, the conversation was over. “Tell me, so do you keep your poetry somewhere?” “I do.” After a beat, I grinned. “You’ll never see it though.” Sher snorted. “Oh, and why is that?” I shook my head and crossed my arms. “You may be my brother, but I still don’t trust you.” Sherlock frowned and pretended to wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh how much you hurt my feelings.” He dramatically shook with fake sobs. “You’re such a little wimp.” The words hung in the air like the stench of last week’s garbage. “Uh huh. I’m the wimp.” He rolled his eyes before he walked out into the hallway. “I’m making dinner.” I frowned and shook my head. I set the broken pen aside and rose from the chair. Memories began a slow cycle through my head. James’s face flashed before my eyes; his body haunted the dark, unlit corners of my room. His ghost touch stilled roamed down my spine. Ghost kisses ran down my jaw. I trembled as I walked down the hall. My legs crumpled beneath me when I remembered sliding my fingers across the stubble on his cheek. Tears, tinged in black, slipped down my face as I remembered the first time he whispered three small words to me when we were surrounded by candles. Kayla…. I could still feel his lips against my ear when he whispered sweet nothings to me. My eyes fluttered shut when his voice floated across my mind. Voices I couldn’t identify tickled my ear. I screamed when fingers clutched my shoulder, dug a sharp set of nails into my skin.

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