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My heart frozen by the fact Moriarty is alive and after me, I just sit in shocked silence. I jolt out of my immobility when the cab goes over a bump, and I yell at the cabbie to stop. I jump out before we even reach a complete stop. And I start to run, my still-healing ankle causing a swaying, lurching run. I try to not bump into people, afraid of pickpockets or what messages could be slipped into my pocket. My hip fails, and I crash to the ground, oxygen barely entering my lungs, the need for it is so great. I can feel myself trembling and allow a quick, hopeless sob before looking around. My vision turns red as my adrenaline rushes, and I realize I am in a dark alley.
“Well, well, well Aubrianna. How very nice to meet you,” comes a cold voice from the dark corners I can not see. My heart freezes, and a shiver goes down my spine. I strain to turn around, lifting my cane to protect me as Moriarty comes out of the gloom, smiling. My heart thuds even faster, and I try to fend of fainting. I fight for breath, trying to speak. The world starts spinning, and I try to stay focused, because who knows what Moriarty will do to me. “Hm...what’s this? Cat got your tongue? It’s just as I’ve been told. Asthma, and failure of limbs after running. Such a shame your brother forgot.”
The cane falls from my trembling hands as oxygen flows back into my lungs. Never has London air seemed so sweet. My vision slowly clears, and I, the absolute idiot that I am, grab the cane and use it to stand up shakily. I ignore the dizzy spell as I stare into his eyes. Realizing my voice will finally work, I reluctantly ask, “What do you want Moriarty?” He smirks, trying some creepy stare at me before saying, “Oh, nothing much. I just know how much it would burn Sherlock for you to have an accident. Fainting of suffocation. Breaking your other ankle. That kind of stuff. Also, to get revenge.”
“OH?? So making him jump off a building and fake his death for three years wasn’t revenge enough?” In my rage, I almost hit Moriarty with my cane, but decide I need it to hold me up. He only replies, “The revenge is not intended for Sherlock,” before stepping back and dissolving into the shadows, “Until next time, Aubrianna.” I back up slowly into the sunshine, my heart thudding. I hear running footsteps, and Sherlock suddenly hugs me. I can feel the relief rolling off of him, and I break down crying in his arms. He scoops me up into his arms, and John starts saying, “..Uh, Sherlock? Are you sure you want to do that with all that blo-.” That is when I realized Sherlock is covered in thick, red blood from his curly hair to his leather shoes. I bite back vomit as I squirm out of his arms, gagging at the smell of it.
“Okay Sher. Why in the world are you covered in blood?” I choke out in between gagging fits. He looks down at himself, as if shocked to discover the red liquid on him. I am trying to shake some of it off my arms when his memory comes back to him and he replies, “My network of information informed me of a murder scene, and it turned out to be a huge pool of blood. I slipped and fell into it.” I look at him with my best ‘are you kidding me’ face, and retort, “Are you sure you didn’t take a bath in it or something? You’re bloody soaked to the bone, no pun intended.” I wink at him as he groans, and turn around, intending to walk back to Baker Street. That was when my hip gave out again and John had to help me walk as three of us parade down the sidewalk, the crowd parting and whispers spreading. My nerves are jittery, and I just start laughing my head off, imagining what a sight we all are. Pretty soon, Sherlock joins in, and that makes me laugh even harder, and I can't stand on my legs anymore. Sherlock scoops me up, carrying me despite all the blood that covers him, and now me, from head to foot.
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