"What!? Really!?" John asked. I nodded. "How? And who?" He asked again.
"T-this happened b-before." I replied stuttering. Damn. I never stutter. I just have to make sure I don't get attached like before. To anyone or anything.
"What do you mean 'this happened before'?" John asked, confused. I'm not telling him. Or anyone. No will find out. Not yet at least. It's not the right time. Ignoring John asking me questions, I pull out my phone and dial up my brother's number. It rings 3 times before he picks up.
"Ah. Sis. Did you get my message from Jim?" He asked.
"Yes. And how on earth does Jim Moriarty now about this?" I ask. John and Sherlock stare at me with wide eyes.
"So you didn't like the suprise?" He asked, faking sadness. He is on my last nerve. I take a deep breathe before speaking.
"No. I didn't. Why are you repeating this?" I hear a laugh at the other end of the phone before I hear a crash. I grip the phone tighter.
"Because I hate your guts, sis. Can't you see?" He asks.
"But your in jail. How did you get out?"
"My men bailed me out."
"Shocker shocker." I rolled my eyes. "What did I even do to you? I always looked up to you before... the incident."
"You always got the attention. I just wanted a little. I never got any unless I got in trouble. So I killed them. I also killed all your loved ones so you would be miserable."
"Well it didn't work, know did it?" I asked, smirking. He didn't reply. He just hung up. I set the phone down and looked around. I saw a spot on the wall with a bunch of bullet hole in it. I grabbed my gun from my holster and shot at the wall. The I threw the gun on the couch and screamed. My hair was in my face and both John and Sherlock looked worried. I took a deep breath and balled my hands up into fists. My nails digged into my palm as I tried to calm down. I remembered that I had a razor in my suitcase in my flat. I could cut myself to get rid of my anger.
My thoughts where inturupted by footsteps on the stairs I looked at the door as it opened to see Mrs. Hudson in the doorway looking furious.
"Sherlock! I told you to stop shooting at my wall! She yelled at Sherlock.
"It wasn't him. It was me." I said, digging my nails deeper into my skin. I could feel a small trickle of blood but I ignored it. She looked at me and gave me a fake smile.
"Oh. Well. Sorry to yell at you Sherlock and sorry to disturb you." She said. Once she left I opened my balled fist and saw the damage I did. I did more than expected, but nothing that I'm not used to.
"Oh my, (y/n)! What did you do?" John asked, looking at my hands.
"Nothing. Just give me a towel and I'll be fine." I said. He handed me a towel and I wiped of the blood. I saw the old cuts caused by my nails. I also saw that I didn't just create new ones, but I opened old ones. I tossed John the towel and put my hands in my pockets.
"Hmmm. Let me see something." Sherlock said, walking over to me. He grabbed my arms and pulled up my sleeves. He smirked as he saw old cuts on my arm.
"(Y/n)? Do you cut?" John asked. Sherlock said nothing.
"No. I used to. Not anymore. They haven't gone away."
"They have been there for at least 3 weeks." Sherlock said.
"Again. No. They have been there for 22 years. With my job, they kept on opening back up so they wouldn't heal properly." I shrug.
"Wait. You said you knew who the killer is. Who is it?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.
