Hazel’s POV
When I wake up I can’t remember anything past hearing the noise outside my flat. I try to sit up, but a woman comes over and tells me to stay lying down. I do, but then I ask,
“Where am I?”
“At the hospital.” Comes the reply. All right then, I think, they must have knocked me out. Now I need to find them and ask them why they tried to get me out of the picture. The incident is coming back now in flashes and I can remember the scent of the drugged rag. It seems as though the dose was supposed to be fatal, but they didn’t get the right amount on the rag and they didn’t hold it on me long enough so I didn’t breathe in a fatal amount. Then I realize that I must have missed tea with Sherlock’s landlady. Damn it!
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Midday on May seventh” Crap! It’s a whole day later. I did miss tea.
“Who brought me here?” I wonder aloud.
“It was Sherlock dear, do you know him?”
“In a way.” I answer. I relax then knowing that he won’t be able to stay away from a mystery like this and fall asleep.
Sherlock’s POV
I head over to Bart’s the moment I hear that Hazel has come to. I yell to John as I get my coat and smile when he yells back
“Wait for me Sherlock!” As soon as john makes it out the door I hail a taxi and tell the cabbie to go to Bart’s. When we get to Hazel’s room I see that she’s asleep again and I go to wake her when the nurse tells me not to so that she can get enough sleep to get better. I just glare at her and ask her to leave; this is something that does not concern her. Thankfully she leaves without a fuss and I am able to wake her. When she wakes I say,
“Why did someone try to kill you?”
“I don’t know.” She says quietly. I know she isn’t lying, but I feel like there’s something that she isn’t telling me. I ask her then if she is working for someone and I see her hand move as if to grab at her wrist, but it stops as if she realizes what she’s doing before she says that she isn’t. That’s enough for me to know that she is and I grab her wrist and lift up the sleeve of the hospital gown and see the marks of self-harm over a brand that is the same one I have found on other minor criminals. These criminals all seem to be working for the same man. The brand is a “W” and I have no idea what it means.
“Whose brand is this?” I demand.
“I can’t say. He will kill me.”
“Do you think he was the one who tried to kill you?”
“No, he is much better at assassinations than the people who tried to kill me. Anyways I was on a job for him, he wouldn’t want me dead.”
“I’ll ask you again,” I growl, “Who are you working for?”
“Who do you think Sherlock?” She yells.
“Oh I know. That’s not a ‘W’, it’s an ’M’. Of course!” It’s Moriarty! Goodness! I should have figured that out years ago.
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Nervous Confessions- A johnlock fanfic
FanfictionSherlock and John are both trying to get up the courage to tell the other that they love them.
