Dangerous Love

chapter 11 - Sherlock's POV

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Sorry to be an absolute jerk and not update. But I've had a hecka lot going on. Buuuuuuuut, I'm making it up to you by updating a lot! I know! Crazy. But it's gonna happen. These are going to be longish chapters to make up for being absent. But I'm getting myself on a better schedule to write and complete this book before the new year :) and maybe even a sequel. Depends on how this book plays out. I have an idea, but I'm not sure yet. Alright, let's get on with it. Here's what you've been waiting for (hopefully).

He did it.

He jumped.

He jumped off a bloody building.

His shoulder, killing him. His side, super sore. Yet his heart hurt most of all. His heart, utterly broken. Knowing he couldn't do a thing to ease John's pain. Knowing that John was going to marry that woman. Mary. Sherlock knew she wasn't for John, but Sherlock also knew he was biased. Considering he wanted John all to himself.

Having John grip his hand, screaming and crying and Sherlock could only act as though he was dead and not breaking down on the inside. As soon as John was taken away from Sherlock, he took in a big breath. He looked over to John and saw John being shoved into a cab with Mary.

The ride to the hospital was tedious. Having EMT's try to "save his life" was tedious. Nobody bothered to look at his shoulder. His shoulder was killing him. It hurt more than anything in his life, well other then breaking John's heart.

Sherlock had arrived to the hospital. He was being wheeled in. They had stabilized his breathing and were getting to work on his shoulder. They fixed up his shoulder and then Sherlock jumped up, startling the surgeon and the nurses.

"Laterz" was all Sherlock had said on his way out of the hospital.

Sherlock ran. He didn't stop. He ran all the way to thei- no. It wasn't their flat anymore. It was probably to be sold. Seemed like the most probable thing to happen. Considering that John was to propose to Mary, probably not today. Today was not the day to propose to anyone. Today was a sad day. Today was the day that Sherlock's heart was utterly broken and John's heart shattered.

Sherlock was standing in front of the flat when he was John walking back to 221B Baker Street. Their home. NO. Not their home. Sherlock had lost everything. Sherlock ran away. He didn't look back. He couldn't look back.

"S-SHERLOCK?! SHERLOCK! OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD."

Sherlock almost tripped over the words being shouted at him. John. John was yelling out to him. He had to make it seem as though John was hallucinating, to make Moriarty leave John alone.

Sherlock started to run even faster then he had before. He could hear John crying, no, sobbing.

"I'm hallucinating already. I cannot deal with him gone. S-SHERLOCK I NEED YOU."

Sherlock kept running. He couldn't stop. And soon he was out of range, and couldn't hear John anymore.

Sherlock was lost. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know anything. But you see, it wouldn't matter that he didn't know where he was because he wasn't going to be there much longer.

Sherlock had stopped running. He just stood there, in the middle of the road. An abandoned road. No road signs. Signs were nowhere to be found. There was no sign of life except Sherlock.

The sound of a gun clicking (I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT GUNS. SO PLEASE CORRECT ME IF NEED BE) and Sherlock quickly turned around. He was Moriarty standing there with a gun, finger on the trigger. Moriarty had a smirk on his face.

"Oh Sherlock, my my my, what did you get yourself into, huh? You do understand that since you didn't follow your part of the deal, wait. I have a better idea! Why didn't I think of this before."

Moriarty had hesitated. What did he have in store for our protagonist?

"Sebby! Come here for a moment, por favor," Moriarty turned to Sherlock, "I'm learning Spanish, sounds sexier."

Sherlock was frozen. He had heard stories of Sebastian Moran. None of them ended well for the other person in the story. And he knew that every single story was true.

"Sebby, can you take this man and put him in the backseat? I have a marvelous plan and it will soon involve Johnny Boy."

"NO, YOU CAN'T. YOU CAN'T, YOU CAN'T HURT JOHN. Leave, leave John alone. Please."

Moran gripped Sherlock's shoulder. His hurt shoulder. Remember that shoulder, the one shot about 3 hours ago? Ah, yes. That shoulder. Sherlock screamed out in pain. Moriarty just laughed.

Sherlock was roughly pushed into the backseat of Jim's car. He tried to get a look around, to help him navigate what was going on. But he couldn't. Something had happened. He couldn't figure it out.

Sherlock was sitting in the backseat. Of a car, a car that he didn't know. Suddenly, the car stopped and Sebastian had gotten out of the driver's seat. (Moriarty doesn't like driving because he can't think properly about his next victims). He opened the door and grabbed Sherlock's arm, yes the one with the hurt shoulder. Sebastian pulled Sherlock out of the car and pushed him to the ground. The asphalt road had scraped Sherlock's face and he winced from the pain. Sebastian pulled him up and forced him to stand.

Sebastian pulled his fist back. Sherlock knew what was coming and also knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tensed up and shut his eyes, as if though that was going to ease the impending pain.

CRACK. Sherlock stumbled back and his hand shot up to his jaw. Tears left his eyes from the pain. His jaw, broken. His shoulder, had a hole ripped through it. A gun shot to match John's, he thought.

Sherlock couldn't think more more before the next impact. This time to his stomach. Multiple multiple punches to his stomach. Bruises of blue and purple forming on his jaw and stomach.

Moran had brought out a lead beam. A beam obviously meant to cause more harm than his fist could. And his fist could hurt. Like a hecka lot.

The beam had made contact with Sherlock's head, causing a concussion. The next hit was against his shoulder. Causing Sherlock to cry out in pain. The hits were next to his knee. Just one knee. Why the one knee was unknown to Sherlock, he was in too much pain to even think.

Sebastian pushed Sherlock to the ground. At this point Jim Moriarty had gotten out of the car. He was leaning against the car looking at his nails, as if extremely bored of the situation at hand.

Sherlock struggled to get up but Moriarty walked towards him and crouched down by him.

"Don't even think about it, Sherly... you see, you have nobody. Nobody is going to come and save you."

Sherlock shuddered and continued in trying to get on his own two feet. His knee prevented him from doing so and he collapsed on the ground.

The last thing Sherlock saw before losing his consciousness was Moriarty's foot coming in contact with his head.

After that, blackness surrounded Sherlock's vision and he fell unconscious.