Living With A Blogger and A Detective (Book 1)

Chapter Thirteen

We stood on the rooftop of Saint Bart's. Sherlock was sitting on the edge, I was pacing back and forth and John was peering down to the ground, practically hyperventilating. Not the way you want to send your typical night in central London. I let out a huge sigh. It's been an hour and still no Moriarty.

"Where is he?" I ask the detective, who was trying to get John to calm down.

"I don't know, maybe looking for you?" My phone buzzes and I answer it, all part of the plan. I phone up to show the two the caller id. Moriarty. I drag my finger across the glass screen of my iPhone and raise it up to my ear.

"Hello? " I hear the voice on the end of the line rambling on about stuff "Jim, love, relax, I don't understand you."

"Lynn, where are you?" He asks. Clearly annoyed with me.

"On the rooftop of Saint Bart's. Didn't you get Holmes' message?" I lower the phone and put it on speaker

"Yes, but I was trying to find you-" I cut him off

"Just hurry, they want to talk to us." I hang up and pocket the mobile. "Okay, well he's on his way..."

I look over the edge and see Lestrade sitting on a bench, positioned like planned. After we got him on the roof. We would 'shoot' John and Sherlock with fake guns, and make it look as real as possible. Then Jim and I would head out of Saint Bartholomew's just for Lestrade to tackle Moriarty and handcuff him. John described it as 'brilliant' and 'amazing', even though it was just a plan.

"Lynn, will this work?" The blogger finally sits down next to Sherlock.

"Yes, John, I'm positive!" This was the fifteenth time he said that in the past hour. God, he can be quite a handful. A few minutes later I hear the door open behind us and I snatch up my fake gun, I switched Moriarty's last night before leaving.

"Lynn! I found you!" I roll my eyes and kiss his cheek.

"No duh," I point the 'gun' at Sherlock and John. "So, Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson. How are you two?" I try to act as if I hate there guts.

"Well, good until you raised that gun up us." John murmured.

"Good, and you know what Jim and I are going to do?" I pull the trigger and hits Sherlock in the chest. Good thing he was far away from the edge, because he fell backwards and hit the ground hard, John went to assist the detective, but when he looked up both of us were racing down the stair case.

"This way! I saw Lestrade out front!" Moriarty grabbed my arm and jerked me toward a door. We ran down a dark corridor at the end was another set of stairs. Jim was going off course. Time to let the others know. I reached for my phone in my pocket and dial Sherlock's number. He should understand what I'm trying to do.

"Jim, are you sure we should to this way?" I stumble over my own feet. "What if they are at every exit?"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them." Moriarty pulls me out a door and we enter the streets of London. He flags down a taxi and tells him an adresse. Hopefuly he's loud enough for Sherlock to hear. I sit back and relax while we speed down the street.

"God, what are we going to do?" I say, looking ot the window.

"I don't know, but we shouldn't talk about this now, Ms. Chance. Because you're going to sleep now." Jim grabs a cloth from his pocket and holds it up to my nose. I inhale and start to feel dizzy, chloroform. I make a few deductions before passing out. I should have known he would do this.

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I wake up several hours later and the first thing I see is a beat up Sherlock Holmes pinning Jim to a wall. Both are speaking to each other, but I don't know what they're saying because I'm drugged.

"You bastard," I hear Sherlock say, but once again, not sure if that's what he said. "You are a psychopath!"

"You're just now getting that?" Moriarty sounds cheer full. What a strange little man. I feel someone come up behind me and untie the rope I had just noticed wrapped around me. Lestrade? No, the foot steps aren't as heavy as Greg's are. Short, good at uniting knots, sturdy hands. John.

"John?" I try to say, but it comes out as a barely audible whisper.

"Sh, Lynn, just stay quite for a minute." The affect of the drug's where wearing off now and I was starting to notice things better. The blogger had finished with the last knot and pulled me up from the chair.

"Thanks. Now let me handle this" I clear my throat to get the two men's attention. "So, Moriarty, you knew all along I was still working with John and Sherlock." I hear Jim laugh.

"Of course, your grandmum's dead! That was a pathetic excuse." I lunge at him but John holds me back.

"Uh, no, Lynn you need to rel-" He stops mid sentence and collapses. Moriarty had gotten free from Sherlock's grip and shot the blogger. The detective manages to get a hold of Jim and Lestrade burst in through the door, immediately running over to assist Sherlock.

I'm crouching next to an injured Watson, trying to use my knowledge of medicine to examine the wound in his leg, while the consulting detective, and the Detective Inspector where desperately trying to contain Jim Moriarty. John had been shot in the leg by Moriarty and I had gone berserk. Anyone who touches my best friend or boyfriend must be hurt. And trust me, I'm stronger than I look. But that's not important right now. I reach out and touch the opening in the blogger's leg.

"Lynn!" He hissed through clenched teeth. "That bloody hurts!"

"Sorry, John, but I have to, now relax." Ironic isn't it? Watson over there is a doctor himself, and he's in no condition to examine himself.

"Fine, just hurry, I'm not in the best mood right now." I roll my eyes and return my attention to his leg.

"Didn't hit anything major." I deduce quietly to myself. "Should be okay, we just need to get that bullet out of his leg." I hear a loud crash and turn to see Sherlock stumble backwards into a pile of boxes. Lestrade looks scared out of his mind. Good God. Jim looks toward me and smiles evilly.

"You're next sweetie!" He sing-songs and come rushing toward me. But I dodge just in time for Moriarty to run into a police officer that just arrived.

"No, Moriarty, you're next, to go to prison." The officer pushed him against a wall and handcuffed him, while another searched for weapons. "John stay there." I rush over to the boxes and pull out Sherlock from the broken wood.

"Thanks, Lynn."" The detective brushes off his long, dark trench coat and retrieve his scarf from the floor. "I appreciate that." I nod and turn toward Greg.

"You okay there, Lestrade?" He smiles slightly and I laugh. He looks like an idiot. "C'mon, let's go home." I help John off the ground and grab Sherlock's hand. Time to head back to back to 221B Baker Street.

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Well, that ends book one of the Bloggers and Detectives series. I hope you all enjoyed! There WILL be a second book (and maybe even a third!) and I'm currently working on it now. Tell me what you thought of the book and stuff! Thank you for over three hundred reads and over twenty votes! I love you guys actually like my stories. I'll talk to you later my dearies. Oh and I can't forget to put an epilogue in! Bye! -AM