Fandoms: Sherlock (BBC) and Doctor Who
Disclaimer: Sherlock and Doctor Who are property of the BBC, Moffat, Gatiss and whoever else owns them. I certainly don't, and I'm making no profit from this.
Warnings: Hints of emotional and physical abuse towards a child.
Spoilers: Spoilers in particular for The Reichenbach Fall and River's arc in S6 of Doctor Who.
Summary: Moriarty kidnapped River Song to brainwash her against the Doctor and Sherlock.
Notes: Written for this prompt at sherlockbbc_fic. Seeing as this is DW, I've messed around with S6's timeline a bit. This is my first completed foray into Sherlock fic, by way of Doctor Who. I'm a little nervous.
There are voices in her head. There are always voices in her head, and she's fine with them now. Slithery, rasping, deep, hollow ones, grinding into her head and twisting.
"Don't trust him dangerous never trust the doctor is the enemy and must be destroyed that is what you are weapon weapon weapon."
The words hurt at first, a jumbled mess of spite that, later, she's able to detect the hatred in. But for now, it hurts, but it always hurts. She's not really alone--there's also someone nearby, somewhere--but it isn't until later that she realises she's alone in the all the ways that matter.
For now, she knows that Madame Kovarian is the closest thing she has to a mother, and that she knows one thousand, three hundred, and forty-six ways to kill the Doctor before breakfast, and four hundred and three ways to gain his trust along the way.
She is five years old.
The training for the second man starts four months later. There is no warning, only: "Now you have a second enemy that you will destroy."
A man with violent eyes and a mad smile watches her from the shadows as she is debriefed.
She accepts it. She is a good weapon.
The new enemy is Sherlock Holmes, and he is a genius, and cruel. He will grind the Earth to dust in his pursuit of what he believes is right. He must be stopped.
But she will not be killing him, not like the Doctor. No, this man's destruction will be through different methods. Emotional ones. (Though she's always believed there's something emotional about death, but she thinks this quietly because no matter how good she is at what she does--and she is very good--they will hurt her to correct her mistakes and misconceptions.)
They send her forward to the twenty-first century. The Silence slowly erodes the Ambassador's memory until he forgets what his true daughter looks like. It is easy to slide into Claudie Bruhl's life and make it her own.
The supposed kidnapping goes as planned, as does the rescue. She is taken to Scotland Yard. She stares at nothing, her face carefully blank.
The door opens, and Sherlock Holmes enters.
She focuses on the table, rocks enough to make the performance genuine, and listens to his footsteps. She looks up at him as he says, "Claudie, I--"
She screams, and screams, and screams, the sounds peaking into hysteria, as he mumbles, "No, no, I know it’s been hard for you, Claudie, listen to me--" She points at him, adding insult to injury.
Plant the seed of suspicion in their minds, little girl, the man with the violent eyes had said, and his downfall will come.
I am no little girl, she had replied, and his mad smile had widened.
Sherlock Holmes' face is pale, bewilderment briefly cracking through his professional façade. No matter his thoughts on people and the world at large, he is not used to children screaming at him when they first see him.
He is dragged from the room, DI Lestrade shouting at him, and she knows she has succeeded.
They return her to the orphanage soon after, and that's when everything unravels.
"Your mother your mother will be there and she will hurt you she will always hurt you do not trust her do not trust the doctor trust only us."
She stares into her mother's eyes, down the barrel of the gun her mother has pointed at her.
The shot is louder than she expected.
And when she feels the regeneration tugging inside, twisting and reshaping her insides, twisting everything that she recognises about herself, she focuses on the thoughts she's repeating, over and over, so her new self will remember.
I am Melody Pond, and I am a good weapon.
I am Melody Pond. I destroyed Sherlock Holmes and I will kill the Doctor.
This entry was originally posted at http://ria.dreamwidth.org/700947.html. Comment wherever you'd like.