You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 13*

I wake up with a cramped neck from falling asleep on the couch. My eyes slowly open to reveal Sherlock standing above me.

"Mmmm," I groan. "What?"

"Another murder. Get changed," the man abruptly responds and I listen. I quickly rush back to my room in the flat below them before jumping into the shower. Turning the knob on, scolding water hits my back causing me to hiss out a few cuss words.

***

I quickly pull my maroon dress pants on followed by tucking in my black shirt. Grudgingly, I pull on some all-black high-top Converse, needing something I can easily run in. After finishing up my last touch of makeup, I make my way out of my flat and back upstairs.

"I've never seen you without makeup," Sherlock notices and I smile and the fact that he noticed such a small detail.

"And you never will. Now, why did you wake me? Another murder?" I ask with a distant look on my face, thinking of all the possible cases we could be taking on.

"Yes, again the victims were five feet five inches. Exactly. Except for the recent one."

"Another one?" I ask in astonishment and he only nods. 

"Another two. Two in one night. Whoever this is, isn't giving us much time," The Consulting Detective concludes.

"Okay, there have been several murders, all connecting to people with the exact height," I say, just wanting to reassure my knowledge.

"But the last one didn't have a height etched into its back. It was a date. May fifth," Sherlock responds.

"That's two fives. May 5th. May is the fifth month. And then 5'5". Somethings going on." I relay my information to him. It's all super odd because May 5th was my birthday.

"Well of course. Isn't something always going on?" Sherlock asks. I ignore him as my mind drifts to John Watson. "Where is he?" Sherlock asks as if he knew I was thinking it.

"Who? John? Most likely smitten with a woman." I reply.

"That's not like him not to tell us," Sherlock expresses. Then his phone rings and he picks it up. "Molly? Yes, I'll let her know... Okay, great. Thank you. Just text me next time."

"Tell me not another one..." I trail off.

"Another one. This time she wants us to examine it," He replies.

***

I open the bag and I look over the body. I flip it onto its back only to see something that almost makes my heart stop.

221B. You.

"Sherlock..." I call his attention with a whisper.

"What?"

"Look," I say, showing him the body.

"How tall are you?" He asks me.

"I don't know... I've been the same height since high school," I mumble. Quickly he grabs the tape measuring tool and rushes back over to me. I stand up straight, facing Sherlock. Once he's finished he takes a step back.

"No..." He mumbles under his breath, realizing how tall I am.

"What does May 5th have to do with it?" Molly questions.

"That's my birthday," I whisper. "Sherlock, am I going to be murdered?"

"No, you're not. I won't let that happen. Let's go," He snaps, adjusting his coat. "We need to get back."

"I'm going to die," I slowly realize, ignoring Sherlock. It's not that I'm afraid of death, I just never thought it would happen this soon. He abruptly turns, with a straight look on his face.

"You are not going to die," He snarls grabbing my shoulders. "Stop thinking that because as long as I'm here, I won't let that happen." Suddenly he drops his hands to his sides before walking out to be greeted by a cab. He jumps in, me following suit. Soon we pull up to 221B, and I jump out of the car. Sherlock stays in the cab, grabbing his belongings when John greets me outside the door.

"Hello, Watson," I say, reaching for the door handle.

"I am so sorry," he mumbles before pulling out a gun and pointing it at my temple. "Rachelle... I'm sorry. I-it's not me," John tells me, his voice quivering, almost to the point of crying. "If I don't they will kill me and Sherlock right now. The cabbie is going to kill Sherlock."

"It's okay John," I whisper, "How many are watching you right now?" I ask.

"Mmm, four," He slowly whispers. I subtly pull out my phone and dial Lestrade'a number.

"Right now, Lestrade, I need your men at 221B. There are four snipers surrounding me," I articulate aloud into the phone before smiling at John. "You'll be fine," I say as John still holds the gun to my temple.

"I-I'm sorry," he says as Sherlock is escorted out of the cab by the cabbie.

"Just hold off as long as you can. Give me some time."

"Oh, this is just great!" I hear a man say. I slowly turn around to see Moriarty by the door. My heart stops, and I can't look away from him. Fear pulses through me, leaving me frozen in my spot. "Nice seeing you again, Rachelle."

"Moriarty," I snarl, spitting at him. He wipes his face off before smiling at me.

"Slap her!" He yells to John. Without moving the gun from my temple, John swings his hand back and strikes my cheek with the pistol. My face stings and I can feel the blood trickle down my face.

"Thank you, John. I needed that refreshing moment. I forgot how Moriarty doesn't do his own dirty work."

"Now, Rachelle... When you left us, we were supposed to kill you, but you got away. Until now, when we found you flirting with Sherlock Holmes!" He screams. "Now, if you want to go out the honorable way... I'll have John hand the gun to you, but if you don't. You have..." He says, checking his watch. "72 seconds to say your goodbyes."

Then the sound of a bullet goes off. A sniper drops dead from the roof. Then another bang goes off.

"I'd run, Moriarty."

"John, now," Moriarty says and John's hand stiffens while he adjusts the gun.

Another bang goes off.