Moving...again (John's POV)

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I sat in the chair as Jim talked animatedly with Charlotte. My phone shattered in my pocket. I had no idea if it would still show the last location. When we had reached the warehouse, I had been shoved from the car. I had landed on my phone in my jacket pocket. It had, obviously, shattered. The glass was shoved into my left hip, but no blood was visible. I drew in another shuddering breath. We had driven for over two hours in loops and turns throughout the city. Jim had taken many precautions to make sure that I wouldn't be able to tell where we were.

"You're right." Moriarty took a deep breath, as if to calm himself, as he responded to something Charlotte had said. I examined my surroundings. Definitely by the docks from the smell of water. Fog seeped through the shattered windows. Shipping containers sat by my side with their information stamped onto all four sides. I could feel the glass inside my side cutting me. I hissed in a breath and licked my throbbing lips, tasting blood.

"Dear God, Sherlock, please hurry up! He's getting impatient." I prayed, remembering the phone call that had taken place during the drive. Jim had seemed so pleased that someone had called me, even more so when he figured out that it was Sherlock from another number. He had kept the gun trained on Charlotte the whole time when he was conversing. When he had finished with the call he had chucked the phone at Charlotte, who had caught it nimbly, before turning his full attention onto me. I shuddered at the memory and was once again surprised by the amount of pain that Moriarty brought on. Well Jim was preoccupied, Charlotte had done something with my phone, rather furtively. She had then slipped it back into my pocket when Jim was busy elsewhere. Her face had been pale and fingers shaking.

"John!" Moriarty's voice changed in pitches as it echoed throughout the warehouse. I turned my head toward him fretfully. It dawned on me how I was acting and I shamed myself. I straightened my back and glared at the monster.

"What?" I asked through grinding teeth. Jim just smiled.

"I'm hungry, keep John company well I'm gone." Jim patted Charlotte on the shoulder before disappearing through the rundown door. Charlotte stood there staring at me as if wondering what she was supposed to do with me. She lifted her phone toward me. A snapping sound and a flash let me know that she had taken a picture. She then texted someone quickly before slipping her phone into the front of her dress and turning her attention back to me.

"Hi." She drawled with an eyebrow raised. Her hands were clasped in front of her, wringing themselves.

"Hi." I responded coldly, "What are you doing with your phone?" Her eyes widened.

"Nothing!" She responded quickly. The little bit of Sherlock that was rubbing off on me allowed me to tell that she was lying. Also the fact of the flash, but I liked to think that I was getting better at deducing. I crumpled up the price tag that I had been playing with before letting it fall to the ground.

"Obviously not." I snarled.

"Fine," She sighed heartily, "I just texted your boyfriend a picture." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder, suddenly back to her sassy self.

"How did you even get his number?" I ignored the boyfriend jibe with difficulty.

"What do you think I was doing on your phone?" She sneered.

"Texting him?"

"No, I was texting his contact to me." She rolled her eyes, looking at me disgustedly.

"So you're helping me?" A small flutter of hope took flight within my words.

"As long as you and Sherlock help me escape Moriarty." That same hopeful bird was perched on her words as well.

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