Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 48- Combat Lessons

Millie's POV

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"You know that man!?" hisses John furiously, evidently  riled by 'the little doctor' comment.

"Not personally. I've heard of him. One of Moriarty's elite. The handful of highly-skilled criminals who he contacts for tasks that he deems particularly important," says Sherlock, his eyes fixed on the closed door.

"I've seen him before," says Emily, thoughtfully.

"What?"

This is news to me.

"When I was attacked outside my apartment. There was a group of them. Moran was the one who knocked me out, in the end."

We're all silent, processing this alarming new information. Moran beat Emily in physical combat?

And then I have an unsettling realisation.

"I think we should all be on our guard. Moriarty sent Moran over to introduce himself: not to attack us, or to harm us. He's stepping it up a notch. Showing us he means business- that the game isn't enough," I say, pensively.

I'm really just voicing my thoughts, and I don't expect any of them to be listening, but when I look up they're all staring at me, their faces identically grave. Well, Sherlock and John's are- Emily's expression is somewhere between mildly amused and apprehensive. 

"I suppose it's only fair," says Sherlock, his voice monotone- "We have Emily."

It's not meant to be a pointed remark, but it sounded undeniably possessive, not to mention undermining. John and I tense up, expecting a reaction from Emily, but she just rolls her eyes and elbows Sherlock sharply.

She's very difficult to predict.

"I think," says John, looking up at Sherlock with a sense of steely determination, "That you need to fill us in on everything you know about Sebastian Moran."

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Emily's POV

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An hour later, we all sit back, overwhelmed with knowledge and dangerous prospects.

Moran is not your everyday killer. He's at the height of his profession; a skilled sniper who can shoot a  moving object from metres away, in the dark, with his back turned. He's pretty damn good at combat too; he was the only one who managed to restrain me whilst simultaneously blocking my airway with a chloroform rag.

Those bruises lasted for weeks.

However, he's not a genius.

He's not stupid- but his intellect pales in comparison to those of Sherlock and Moriarty. And he has a very definitive pressure point: his 'boss'. Sherlock contacted Mycroft, who unwillingly provided us with some confidential information on Sebastian Moran. He is the product of a particularly traumatic childhood, and, after having his military career terminated for poor conduct, turned to illegal hire as an alternative. I suppose that's how he got involved with Moriarty. However, I don't think Moran is fully aware of his situation. I have enough experience to know that Moriarty would happily arrange for Moran's elimination, regardless of his dedication, if he became a threat. But Moran blindly worships his boss with a devotion that rivals John and Sherlock's, and his exceptional skill-set has been enough to persuade Moriarty to keep him alive, for now.

But I personally wouldn't bet on his continued survival.

We all feel a little better with these new facts. Unlike Moriarty, who we know virtually nothing about- other than that he is ruthless, manipulative and most definitely insane- Sebastian Moran is a much more human threat. It won't be easy. With Moriarty's intimidating intellect and Moran's apt sniping and combat skills, there will be an unavoidable standoff at some point, and we are aware that not all of us will come out  of it alive.

I've taken to viewing Moriarty as just a name now- since the disastrous events of last week, I have made a conscious effort to detach myself from him. I know that I'm a destructive person, but any further correspondence with Moriarty would be like adding petrol to an already burning fire.

I'm trying hard to reign myself in. Truthfully, I was a bit alarmed at how easily I complied to sex with a psychopath. I know that I'm not ever going to be a good, law-abiding, ordinary citizen, but I've decided to try and limit my destruction as much as I can. And then maybe I won't be as interesting to Moriarty any more, and he'll simply get bored of me, and I can go back to hacking and occasionally fraternizing with the detective and his friends.

Because, although my hangover painfully disagreed, I know for a fact that I wasn't that drunk.

I consumed two shots in total.

Two.

Yes, they were potent.

But I was still perfectly aware of what I was doing.

And I don't want to be that vulnerable again. I wonder if perhaps Moriarty is doing something similar- I don't think for one second that he actually felt vulnerable, but maybe he realised that I could become an emotional threat, so he's decided to distance himself from all of us, and bring in Sebastian Moran.

That, or he just wants to speed things up a bit.

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Millie's POV

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"Emily?"

She snaps out of her thoughts, which, judging by her expression, are very dark.

"Yes?"

"Do your combat skills have a limit?"

She looks surprised. 

"Well, I suppose I'm limited in the sense that I'm not overtly strong. I just know what I'm doing, and, nine times out of ten, the other person doesn't."

I consider this, then say-

"I think you should teach us. Not to kill someone- just how to fight. So that we 'know what we're doing'."

"What?!" chokes John, his mouth full of toast.

"You've already had some military training," I say to John, before picking up the newspaper, "So it won't be too exerting. And since we're dealing with a trained sniper and combatant now, as well as an infamous criminal mastermind, I think it's worth a shot."

I look at Sherlock, who just raises one eyebrow a fraction and presses his fingers together in judicial poise. Emily blinks at me a couple of times, then sits up a little bit straighter.

"Right. Fine. I'll try to teach you some of the basic techniques, though I'm not sure how much they're going to help you. I think a sharp mind is infinitely more beneficial than any physical abilities. But I don't see why we can't give it a go."

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About half an hour later, and the interior of 221B is virtually unrecognisable from the amiable clutter that I've grown so used to.

We've pushed the furniture to the walls and cleared a sizable space in the middle of the room. This is the first time I've seen the floorboards, which are normally covered with carpets, bookshelves, armchairs and the occasional body part. 

Sherlock has refused to take part in any 'training', because he said that 'combat undermined all intellectual prowess and therefore his sense of integrity.'

John said Sherlock was just scared of having his 'arse handed to him by Emily Schott.'

"Right," says Emily, dusting of her hands and stepping into the middle of the room-

"Who wants to go first?"

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