Chapter Text
-PROLOGUE-
I have approximately twenty seconds until five armed guards round this corner. Guns, ammunition, magazines, knives, hair tie.
Judging by recent encounters with Moriarty's web of guards, they will be tall, broad men, 6'5, 220 pounds, delayed response to immediate change of direction and more importantly a useless distraction.
Stepping out from behind the wall before they make it, my ponytail flowing in succession and gun in hand, I shoot the first one in the shoulder at close range,I use him as a shield to shoot the next and shoot the first again.
The next comes running, he's determined after seeing his friends on the floor. Revenge never helped anyone, Clyde, except for maybe Beatrix Kiddo, but I'm not about to end up like Bill. I snatch my ninja star from my booth and with a quick throw, he's on the ground and I'm taking shelter at the next corner.
The next one comes in slowly, arms in front and a white knuckled grip on his gun. I grab his hair back and use my foot to buckle his knees, as he falls to the ground I kick his gun away and straddle his back. Pulling his head back towards me, I twist it, and in a swift motion his neck is broken.
Then, a gun shot, but I didn't shoot, flesh wound to upper arm. Throwing myself behind the corner he rushes after me, blocking another bullet, I wait for him to round the corner and punch him square in the face, immediate fracture, then again, breakage, he's distracted, finish him off, upper cut, knocked out, bullet to the head.
-Third person-
As she rips her t-shirt into a rag and ties it around the wounded arm, she hears the slight movement of a camera and in three seconds she smiles and in a swift motion grabs her gun from her holster, winks and shoots it. Bulls eye.
-ONE DAY LATER-
Pulling up to Baker Street, a middle aged man, with an impeccably tailored suit, and an expression that would impress death, emerged from a sleek, black car. Twisting his umbrella with what seemed to be the fingers of a pianist, he straightened himself out and proceeded towards the door of 221B.
Knocking quickly, he waited patiently, and one minute later, an older woman with a kind expression shooed him up the stairs.
~
"Brother mine" , Mycroft greeted his uninterested younger brother, as he entered 221B. "What do you want now?" , Sherlock said with annoyance, which earned him a disapproving look from John, who is still surprised they haven't dropped the petty, childish feud between them.
"It seems our dear sister has got herself rather tied up in a certain spiders web"