It was painful, looking at myself in the mirror in my undergarments. You could tell that my shoulder was hit a lot and my face... my face looked like someone had repeatedly slammed it into a wall. Which they did. My ribs were badly bruised. My knee cap was a weird mix of black an purple that had some bright yellow spots surrounding it.
And my back was painfully scarred. I had just taken a shower and the blood still wasn't all washed out of my skin. I through on some long sweats and a sweater, using a workout tank top as my under layer. I don't think I'll ever wear short sleeves in public again. Of course, John made me take off the sweater when he saw that I was obviously hiding all of it.
"Oh my god..." John gasped. All he saw were my shoulder blades. I shut my eyes, blushing furiously and throwing the sweater back on.
"It doesn't hurt that bad." I lie, "I'll live."
"Are you sure?" John asks. He sounds serious, but I can't help but give him my famous fake laugh.
"John, it's not the bad." I smile kindly, pulling out my phone and calling Sherlock. He answers and I can hear is smile.
"I manipulated him. Alison, it was amazing. I made it seem like I barely knew him. I said he looked familiar and snapped and said he was my clerk at some random store. I shook his hand, handed him my number, and gave him a him some money!" Sherlock laughs, "And he was there the whole time, he just couldn't hear us."
"I rescued Molly from a burning building and told half of London to screw themselves." I deadpan, "Anyways, I did what I wanted. I damaged him in a way he though no one could. But I need more. Will you help me kill James Moriarty?"
"I feel like you just purposed." Sherlock chuckles.
"Answer the goddamned question, Sherlock." I snap.
"Fine fine." Sherlock hangs up. I place myself on the couch gently, wincing every time I move. It's obvious John is watching me, but I'm trying so hard not to look wounded.
"Alison, I'm a doctor. If I had first aid, I could help." John insists.
"John, I'm okay." I laugh.
"Stop saying you're okay. An okay person doesn't push someone into traffic."
"He was going to kill us!" I protest.
"That didn't give you right to kill him!" John shouts. He tries to take a second to calm down. I imagine this is how he did during his war time.
"John, I'm in a really bad mood." I try not to let out that I feel like curling into a ball and crying, "So if we could just not talk about anything that matters for the rest of the day, that'd be great."
"Americans." John rolls his eyes.
"I'm going to my room." I say cooly, standing up and heading to my computer. I type in my IM password and message MH.
JC: I'm okay now. At 221B
MH: Shame about Greg
JC: So are you spying on Sherlock right now?
MH: He was a good person
JC: Where's Sherlock
MH: I really liked the guy
JC: You were in love, you goon. How's Sherlock?
MH: In love?
JC: Look, I don't want to talk about him. Okay? So get over your feelings and tell me how our goddamned little brother is doing!
YOU ARE READING
You Can't Choose Your Friends
Fanfiction{Sherlock Fanfiction} "He was shot" was the first thing Allison heard Sherlock Holmes say. Of course, she didn't know who the hell 'John' was. She was just hoping her older brother would wake up soon. The two unlikely friends become close and Aliso...
