Pretty Stranger...Why Are You Following Me? (Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Eleven

If you guys don't mind, I am skipping all of the bombings and going to the missile thing, it's really long and I just don't want to go through all of that. I am NOT being lazy, that's just a lot of writing and could be thought of as some form of plagiarism. Excuse the mistakes.
~ Madeline Moriarty
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"Why did you do it?" Sherlock asked the man, Joe, I believe his name was. John was there too.

"I got into dealing drugs, and eventually I had debts. Big debts. To big people. And West flashed that memory stick in front of my face, right in front of me. It was easy to get it off of him. He was so blasted. And then he came and he knew it was me. I pushed him down. I was going to call an ambulance." Joe sighed and put his head in his hands. "But it was too late. So I just dragged him in here and just sat in the dark." He looked up at us. The three of us. Some people called us the golden trio. The worlds only consulting detective. The doctor and blogger. And the girl who could read Sherlock Holmes.

"That's when the perfect idea popped into you're head." Sherlock muttered. "It was an accident, I swear." Joe said. "We believe you." John reassured him. "Do you have the memory stick?" Sherlock asked. Joe nodded. "Fetch it for me."

Three Days Later:

Sherlock, John and I were sitting in the flat. Sherlock and I were watching crap telly while John was on his laptop.

"No, no!" Sherlock shouted. "He's not the boys father! Look at the traces in his DNA!" John shook his head and we both laughed. "I knew it was dangerous." John muttered. "What's dangerous?" Sherlock asked. "Getting you involved in crap telly." I replied, laughing. John got up and started out the door, I followed. "Where are you going?" Sherlock asked. "Grocery." John replied. "Home." I stated, giving Sherlock a smile. "But it's not that late, Emily." Sherlock whined. "It's nine o'clock, Sherlock. I have to work in the morning." I said. "Please?" Sherlock begged. "No." And I left.

Third Person:

Sherlock walked into a pool. The same pool Carl Powers was killed at. Sherlock held the memory stick in front of his face.

"This is what it was all for! Come on!" He shouted, turning around. A figure in a big green parka stepped out, Sherlock turned. In front of him was one of the only people Sherlock cared about, John Watson. "John." Sherlock gasped. "Hello, Sherlock." He said. "Not you, John." Sherlock begged. "Nice touch, the pool. Same one Carl Powers died in. I stopped him. I can stop John too. I can stop his heart." John whimpered slightly, opening up his jacket so Sherlock could see the bombs.

"Stop it." Sherlock said, looking around. "Where are you?" He shouted.

"I gave you my number. I thought you'd call." A man said, coming out from one of the rooms. Sherlock had seen this man before. Presumably Moriarty. He says something about the gun in Sherlock's pocket. "A bit of both." Sherlock replies, pulling the gun. "I enjoyed our little game. Playing gay. Playing plain old Jim. Did you like the underwear touch?" Moriarty said casually. Moriarty came closer to Sherlock. "Don't be silly. I'm not holding the rifle, I don't like to get my hands dirty." Moriarty said. "You've already got a lot of blood on you're hands." Sherlock replied with a grimace.

"You've got it all wrong." Moriarty shook his head. "How?" Sherlock said. "I will burn you, Sherlock Holmes." He said hatefully. "I will burn the heart out of you." Sherlock shook his head. "I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." He replied. "But we both know that's not quite true."

"What happens if I shoot you now?" Sherlock asked. "Then you can cherish the look of surprise on my face." He paused to make a surprised look. "Because I really would be surprised, Sherlock. And a bit....disappointed." Moriarty closed his eyes, expecting Sherlock to shoot. But Sherlock didn't. "I should be going." Moriarty said, leaving.

Sherlock dropped the gun and ripped the parka off of John, throwing it across the room. John laughed. "I'm glad no one saw that." He muttered. "Saw what?" Sherlock asked. "You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool, people might talk." John replied, still laughing shakily. Sherlock paced back and forth. "You okay?" John asked. "Me? Fine." Sherlock replied quickly, but John knew otherwise.

"Look!" Moriarty shouted. "I've found a new player." And he pushed out a girl.

Emily's p.o.v:

Moriarty pushed me out of a room, a bag over my head. I could smell chlorine on the air, we were in a pool. He lifted the bag off of my head. Sherlock and John gasped.

"You're girlfriend." Moriarty laughed. "Well, that's what people call her, seeing as you two are you buddy, buddy. She kisses you're cheek, you let her. She hugs you, you hug back. She contradicts you, you let her. You're always seen together. She really is practically you're girlfriend." Moriarty shrugged.

"We're not a couple!" Sherlock and I shouted simultaneously. "A couple thing right there." Moriarty pointed out. He shoved a gun into my side. I winced and flinched. "Oh, I wouldn't move, honey. I'll shoot if you do." He whispered in my ear. "I think we both know my solution." Sherlock said, pointing the gun at us. He then lowered it to the parka on the floor. Moriarty smiled.

"Let her go or we all go up." Sherlock said. "It's not that easy, Sherlock." Moriarty said, resting his chin on my shoulder. I wanted to push him off so hard, but I fought the urge. I'd die if I did. "What do you want me to do, then?" Sherlock asked. "Die." Moriarty replied. I shook my head and cried, "don't listen to him, Sherlock! Save yourself. Let him kill me. I don't care, you're the important one. The world's only consulting detective. God knows you're special." Sherlock stared at me with surprise, trying to find something to say. "I-I can't do that, Emily...." Was all he put out. "Couple move." Moriarty said, raising his voice two octaves.

"Sherlock, just run. Please, I'm begging you. Just leave and take John with you. I'm not important." I pleaded. Moriarty clicked his tongue. "You're probably the most important of us all," he whispered. "Emily Reynolds. The girl who can read Sherlock Holmes. And look at his face. He wouldn't do that. He can't do that. He's....in....love....with....you...." I could feel him grin. "Th-that's not true." I said, though I wanted it to be true. I wanted it to be true desperately. Moriarty laughed. I felt his phone buzz against my leg. He pushed me away to answer it. "I better take this." He said. He shooed me away like a fly.

I ran over to Sherlock and practically collapsed in his arms. I took his face in my hands and pressed my forehead against his. Rubbing my thumb gently against his cheekbone. I could feel his lips brush lightly against mine as he shifted. "Couple moment!" Moriarty shouted, his voice again raising. I disregarded his remark and focused on what was in front of me. One of the most important things in my life. Sherlock. I stood on my tip toes so my nose barely touched his.

"Emily?" Sherlock asked.

"Shut up. Just shut up." I whispered, my lips brushing his as I spoke.

That's when it happened.

That's when it all changed.