Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Memento Vivere

CHAPTER FORTY SIX: MEMENTO VIVERE

A/n: Okay, since this chapter ends on a cliffhanger and I didn't want to do an author's note for the end of this chapter or for the beginning of this one, I'm doing one long one. Here goes: A few things, listen to either Falling by Florence + The Machine or the Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy while reading the next two chapters.Next, thankyouguyssoverymuchforthesupport, it'squiteamazing. Thirdly, thischapterisdedicatedtoallofyou. Fourthly, Icriedwhilewritingthis (unfortunatelyIwaswritingthisinclass) soIhopeyoucryasmuchasIdo.

~Kamilla

~Dawn, St. Bartholomew’s lab~

Dawn’s first rays were peeking over the horizon just as Amelia awoke. She blinked away the grogginess of sleep, holding back a yawn. Sherlock had not moved from his spot since she’d fallen asleep, although he’d dragged over a chair and sat down on it, kicking his feet up onto the lab bench. He rolled his ball across the top of the bench, looking up to meet Amelia’s tired gaze with a soft smile.

She returned the action, rising to her feet. She stretched out, flexing every joint and muscle, reminding Sherlock very much of a cat. She took care to remain silent, noticing John sleeping on a stool nearby. Amelia walked over to Sherlock, rubbing her eyes as she let out a large yawn. “Hey, you.” Amelia whispered.

“Hello,” Sherlock replied formally.

Amelia set her hand down on Sherlock’s, stopping him from rolling his ball. “We’ll beat him.” She said, referring to Moriarty. “We have to.”

“At what cost?” Sherlock said tiredly. His eyes had sunken into his skull due to a combination of his sleepless nights and his stress. He bit his lower lip in a nervous manner, something that was quite out of character for the consulting detective. “I could lose you.”

“But you won’t.” Amelia reassured with a kind smile, brushing the back of her hand against Sherlock’s angular cheek, Sherlock catching her hand and placing a kiss on it before letting it go. She let out a soft laugh, blushing when John stirred. “Oops,”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat down where he was before, completely still and already deep in thought. Only the steady rise of fall of Sherlock’s chest and the occasional twitch of Sherlock’s face muscles let Amelia know he was still alive. She hopped up onto the lab bench, shooting a look at Sherlock when he resumed his ball-rolling. Amelia looked up, startled as John’s phone rang, the sound trilling throughout the silent lab.

John lifted his head sleepily as he groaned and answered the phone, Amelia trying to piece together the conversation from John’s replies. “Yeah, speaking.” said John, pausing as someone told him something. “Err, what?!” John got to his feet, “What happened? Is she okay? Oh my God. Right, yes, I’m coming.” John switched off his phone, tucking it away.

“What is it?” asked Sherlock.

“Paramedics.” John said, “Mrs. Hudson—she’s been shot.”