You made it back to the flat, and collapsed on the couch. It was a long day of running around. You and John talked to the fiancé of the boy found on the side of the tracks, and the dead security guards landlady. That wasn't what made you so tired though.
~a few hours earlier~
Sherlock had located where the assassin Gollum was, and so you three headed there. You got out of the cab, but you were stopped by Sherlock.
"I think you should wait here," he said.
"What why?"
"This man is double your height, and at least double your strength. He's a trained assassin it would be in your best interest to stay put."
"Like hell I will," you said as you pushed past him following John down a dark alley way looking for the assassin. He was at the end of the alley, and the three of you hid behind a wall not wanting to be seen. John was searching his pockets looking for something. "I can't believe I- " he began before you and Sherlock handed him a pistol. They both looked at you surprised. You always kept one with you since when you were in the states where it was more common. They shook of their surprise and John took Sherlocks. You were glad you wanted to have something to defend yourself with against the giant.
"There he goes," said John who saw him take off to the other end of the alley. You chased him down, but he got in a car and sped off.
"It's going to be weeks until we can find him again," exclaimed Sherlock frustrated that he got away.
"No it's not," said John. He was able to track Gollum down to the Planetarium. This wasn't what you expected. You got a cab and hoped you would get there in time.
"This is where the next victim is," said John as you all raced into the building. You found him in one of the theaters where he had already gotten to the next victim. You entered from the front of the room onto the stage. Something was playing on the screen creating enough light to make out the lay out of the room, but it was very distracting.
"Gollum," Sherlock shouted trying to get his attention. The Gollum dropped the poor women, and turned to see the three of you. When the lady fell she hit the controls, and the projected started flashing light making it nearly impossible to see clearly. "Who do you work for," Sherlock asked. What happened next happened quickly the Gollum grabbed Sherlock from behind, and the movie played normally again. At least you could see better. You and John pulled your guns on him.
"Let him go," John began his voice calm, and dangerous. "Or I will kill you." You cocked the hammer of your gun as a warning, and to say that if he wouldn't you would. The Gollum kicked the gun out of Watson's hand and, dropped Sherlock. He turned and shoved you, hard. You slid across the stage, and lost a hold of your gun. You cursed yourself, and got up. The Gollum had John this time. You ran up behind him and kicked down hard on the back of his knee. He dropped John, and stumbled a bit towards you. Sherlock pushed you out of the way at the last second, and punched the Gollum in the chest. Of course the Gollum went after Sherlock again, but John wasn't going to sit back he jumped onto the Gollum's back and wrapped his arms tight around his neck. The Gollum staggered around the stage flailing his arms trying to get John off. It looked quiet ridiculous. You found one of the guns, but there wasn't a clear shot of the Gollum. Not a second more had passed when Gollum threw John off him to the ground, and this time he ran. You shot at him, but missed each time. You were disoriented, and couldn't fire straight. The three of you didn't waste another second there wasn't much time to prove the painting was a fake.
You were at the gallery watching as Sherlock struggled to out what made the painting different from the original. During the fight with the Gollum you whacked your head pretty good, and it was now bleeding. John insisted you get it looked at. You insisted it would be fine.
"I don't think I've properly introduced my self," said Lestrade, "I'm Greg Lestrade."
"(Y/f/n) (y/l/n), pleasure to meet you."
"Pleasures all mine, so are you a friend of Sherlocks?"
"I guess you could say that." You turned your attention back to Sherlock who had gotten no where. The pink phone rang, and Sherlock answered it. "It's a fake. The paintings a fake that's why they were killed." Silence. "Oh come on proving it is just a detail, but I've solved it." Still nothing. "Ok, fine just give me time." Then a voice spoke, a child's voice.
"Ten," they were counting down. You ran your hand through your hair. This man is sick taking a kid. There was momentary confusion but everyone realized what was going on a moment later. "Nine," the voice was shaky he was scared. You couldn't blame this would scare him for life. Sherlock frantically went over the painting looking for what would prove that it was a fake. His eyes drank in every detail, but not with finesse there was an urgency, he wasn't dancing he searching frantically tearing it apart to find something. "Eight... Seven... Six.."
"That's it!" Sherlock shouted and began typing something into his phone.
"Five,"
"What?"
"Four,"
"You two heard it at the planetarium too. Oh, Brilliant!
"Three,"
"SHERLOCK," you and Lestrade shouted. He grabbed the phone from John.
"The Vanburan Supernova." Everyone was silent for a moment.
"Please is any one there?" Sherlock did it. You let out a breathe you didn't realize you were holding. John chewed Sherlock out a bit for not stopping the clock as soon as he knew, but he was glad Sherlock solved it. When you got back to there flat John took a look at your head. There was long gash across your hairline. Wasn't bleeding too bad thankfully.
"Yup you've got a concussion," stated John as he began to put a bandage over it.
"I knew we shouldn't have let you come," mumbled Sherlock under his breathe. He was sitting in his chair staring at you.
"What?" You couldn't believe he said that.
"You got hurt you shouldn't have come."
"So what I got a minor concussion that doesn't mean I should have stayed back." John eyed the two of you for a moment before he decided it'd be best not to intervene.
"What if it wasn't minor. He's an assassin he could've killed you."
"I can hold my own."
"Obviously not." This got under your skin. Who was he to say that you couldn't protect yourself. You had enough of that, and decided to leave. You stood up and took a step forward before you stumbled.
"Woah, you need to lie down. You can crash here for the night it's late, and we don't want you to make the concussion worse," John said as he helped you back on to the couch. You were angry, and didn't want to be in the same place as Sherlock, but you didn't really have a choice.you laid down, and John put a blanket over you. You thanked him, and he went to bed. Sherlock stayed up for a little while longer staring out the window into the night. You soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep while watching the detective who had been so rude to you moments before.
The next morning you woke to voices coming the kitchen. There were two, both male, one lower than the other. You heard your name mentioned.
"Do you really believe those things you said about (y/n)?"
"Not at all."
"Then why would you say that I know you can be a rude pain in the arse, but was that necessary," that one was definitely John.
"She's a bit reckless she needs to be more careful." That was Sherlock for sure.
"Or do you want her to be more careful. There's a difference."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll figure it out. Well I'm headed to the train station call me when (y/n) wakes up." With that you drifted off again.
When you woke up this time everything was quiet. You sat up slowly, and looked around. Not a soul was to be seen. You got up shakily to your feet. You were more steady than you were yesterday, thankfully. You made it to the kitchen table, and saw a note.
Dear (y/n) ,
I've gone to the train station should be back later in the afternoon. Mrs.hudson can give you something if your head starts to hurt, and she also has food.
-John Watson
Went to the police station. Be back later.
~SH
You walked over to one of the many book shelves, and began looking through the books. They wouldn't be back for a while so why not read. John wouldn't approve, but he doesn't have to know. You finally settled on a book of Norse myths. You were fascinated by the stories, but soon fell back asleep.
When you woke up a third time late afternoon light was shining through the curtains. Groggily you sat up rubbing your eyes.
"Morning, or should I say afternoon," you looked over, and saw Sherlock sitting in his chair with his coat wrapped around him. He stared intently at the tv as if he could turn it on with his mind if he tried hard enough.
"What time is it?" You had to have been asleep for hours.
"Mmm sevenish."
"Seven! how long have you been here?"
"John, and I got back around five."
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
"John said it wasn't good for your concussion, and neither is reading," he said glancing down at the book in your lap. You blushed out of embarrassment of being caught.
"Your awake," John said as he entered the room.
"Ya, has anything new come from the killer?"
"Does it look like it," John said motioning to Sherlock who wasn't paying attention to the two of you. John proceeded to fill you in on the events of that day. How they found out who had the missile codes, and got them back. Eventually John turned on the tv for Sherlock, and started to write something for his blog. You were able to convince him to let you read for a bit while Sherlock shouted at the tv.
"Still nothing from the killer," John asked Sherlock.
"No," he replied without turning around eyes fixed on the tv.
"Maybe he's done."
"He's not there were five pips we've only had four."
"I'm gonna make some tea anyone want some," you asked. Over the past week you had become familiar with there flat, and since you had a concussion John wanted you to stay to make sure you were ok. You walked over to the cupboard where the cups were kept when John spoke again, "Do you think it's him, Moriarty." You stopped dead in your tracks. You felt the color drain from your face. Your worst was just confirmed. You stood there frozen with shock.
"(Y/n) are you ok?" Sherlock asked from the living room.
"I-I..." You couldn't speak as a wave of dizziness washed over you. You rested your hand on the table for balance, but it wasn't enough. You felt yourself falling backwards, and you heard someone call your name, but you couldn't make it out. Before you could hit the floor you felt someone catch you. You could see the fuzzy outline of Sherlock pick you up before you blacked out.
You woke up what felt like hours later. You were on the couch with a worried Sherlock, and John leaning over you.
"Thank go your ok," said John "I told you you shouldn't read."
"It wasn't just the concussion. Was it (y/n)." Sherlock said staring at you. You felt your hands trembling at your side,but Sherlocks eyes stayed trained on yours. Finally you shook your head.
"How long was I out?" You asked hoping to change the subject.
"About a minute, but if it wasn't just the concussion what was it?" John asked confused.
"Fear," Sherlock whispered. "The fear of a name."
"This is ridiculous Sherlock we should take her to a hospital."
"But it isn't just the fear of the name," Sherlock continued ignoring John. "But the fear of the owner." You felt your whole body begin to shake as the memories of the months before you came to London. "(Y/n)," Sherlock said in a soft quiet voice that helped calm you down. "How do you know Moriarty?" His eyes didn't leave yours for a second as you stopped shaking, and sat up. You looked away, and stared at your hands unable to find your voice.
"(Y/n), do you know Moriarty" John asked with worry lacing his words.
"You didn't come here originally to study abroad," Sherlock began as he started to fit the pieces together." You didn't start school until two months after you got here. You were hiding from someone. You came here running from someone. You had an abusive ex that you were running from, didn't you." His voice stayed calm, and soft. You nodded he was right. "Was that man Moriarty?" Slowly you nodded your head in response. Your eyes were focused on your hands but you could practically hear johns jaw drop to the floor from shock.
"Are-are you sure he's the same man? It could be a coincidence-"
"It's the same man. My right hand coat pocket." You said, and Sherlock got up and grabbed your coat. Out of the pocket he pulled out the envelope. He brought it over to where we're sitting and kneeled down in front of you next to John. He opened it and removed the three photos.
"Oh my god," John gasped as he looked at the photos. Sherlock was holding the one from when the two of you were together.you reached out and turned over the photo to show him the message. His face remained emotionless.
"How did you end up with this psychopath?" John asked. You explained to them what had happened two months before you came to London.
"I was at the public library reading a book when he came up to me. He said that the book I was reading was one of his favorites. We talked for a bit, and he invited me on a date. He was so charming and kind I never would have guessed how sadistic he really was." You felt your hands begin to tremble. As you remembered being with him. "We started dating soon after, and everything was fine until we got in a fight. It was just a small fight, but he's short tempered, and-and he started yelling at me about things that don't even relate to the the argument."
*Flash back*
"You're an ungrateful little-"
"Out," you said to the tall man who was standing in your living room who for the past five minutes had been yelling at you.
"What did you say." He growled his brown eyes glowing with anger.
"I said, out." You raised your voice slightly hoping this time he would leave. He began walking towards you, but you didn't back down. You immediately thought where to run to if it came to that. The apartment was small. Two rooms one bath. He was in the way of the door, so that was out. The bathroom! There's a window big enough for you to crawl through. You could the door and buy yourself time to get away. He was now standing less than a foot from you.
"You don't tell me what to do." He said his voice was cold, and sharp like knives of ice threatening to cut into you. You fought the urge to back away into the wall.
"My house, my rules, and I told you to get out so-" before you could finish he slapped you hard across the face. You could feel the sting of his hand, and tears beginning to form. You stumbled back a bit from shock. He grabbed your shoulders, and shoved you against the wall banging your head. You were shocked that he was this strong. He didn't have huge biceps or a well defined six pack. He had a more slender build. Making him come across as non threatening. He leaned down toward you so your faces were inches apart.
"I'll ask you again," he snarled. "What did you say to me?"
"I said to get the hell-" he hit you again.
"What did you say!?" Your only was response was spitting in his face. In the long run this probably wasn't a good idea. He grabbed you by the neck blocking your air supply. You struggled against him but he was too strong. "I'll ask you again," he whispered. " What did you say?" He real eased you and you fell to the ground gasping for air.
"Leave me alone you psycho." You gasped out. He bent down and whispered in your ear, "Wrong answer." He grabbed a handful of your hair and hit your head against the wall. You saw spots before eyes, and you tried to get out of his grip by kicking out, but it was no use. "Now," he said in a calm voice. "If you tell anyone about this I will kill you." You looked into his eyes as he said that, and saw no humanity in them. With that he got up, and walked out the door. Once he was gone you broke down from both terror and pain.
*end of flash back*
"It was hell being with him." You said, and realized that there were tears flowing down your cheeks.
"You never told?" Asked John.
"After a month it got to the point where he would hit me when he was bored, like it was a sick form of entertainment for him, and I thought that I would rather have him kill me then go on with it so I told a friend. She didn't come to class the rest of the week after I told her, and later that week the found her body in the river."
"Oh my god," John said for the thousandth time that night. "How did you get away?"
" I ran once, skipped town, but he found me, and it just made things worse. I decided the only way out was to leave the country. I bought a one way ticket to London while he was at work, and was gone before he got home. I told everyone I knew I got a last minute offer to study abroad in Australia. Once in London I got a job and stayed off the radar for a few months enrolled in school, got my citizenship, and I haven't heard from him since." You wiped away the tears on your face with your trembling hands. And looked up for the first time. John looked shocked, and concerned. Sherlock looked angry. His jaw was clenched as well as his fists his eyes were no longer on you, but focused on the floor.
"Get some rest (y/n)," John said after a long silence. "You should stay here with us where it's safer until we know he won't come after you." You nodded, and laid back down on the couch. Sherlock draped a blanket over you, and they both wished you a good night. Yours were heavy, and soon you drifted off to sleep again.
Sherlocks point of view
Watched as (y/n) fell asleep. She wasn't peaceful though. Her whole body was tense. I felt a pang in my heart at the sight of her like this. I never would've deduced this. The apartment was quiet as John had gone to sleep too. I sat there staring out the window for a moment. Silently vowing that I would take Moriarty down if it was the last thing I do. I closed my eyes, and sighed how could I have grown so fond of (y/n) so fast? I looked back over to her. Even with her (h/l) (h/c) in tangles she looked flawless. I got up, and lifted her off the couch and brought her to my bed where she would more comfortable. I tucked her in before going back out to the living room. I got onto the laptop, and left Moriarty a message.
Found the Bruce Parkington Plans. Please collect. Midnight at the pool.