Thanks to Flying-katana (who doesn't come on here as far as I know. You can find her on DeviantART) for pointing out grammar mistakes and typos :D
The stillness that followed was eerie, almost unnatural. Just John, Sherlock and Moriarty, locked in their poses. Nobody dared move a muscle, not while Sherlock still had the gun pointed downwards, at the jacket of explosives.
Suddenly, gunshots rang out, breaking the stillness. John froze, expecting Sherlock to fall to the ground, or to feel the same, unbearable pain he had felt in Afghanastan. But neither happened. What did happen, however, as the shots continued, was beyond unbelievable. One by one, the snipers' lasers disappeared. Just fell away. They all looked up as the body of a sniper fell into the pool.
Moriarty's grin faltered for a second, then widened.
"Oh! That was quick!"
Sherlock's mobile rang. He ignored it. Probably just Sarah, worrying about John.
"Sh-Sherlock? What happened?" John asked once he'd gotten his breath back. Sherlock shook his head slightly, gazing at the body, obviously itching to examine it. His mobile rang again. He ignored it.
"Oh, for goodness sakes, DUCK!" a female voice echoed around the pool. Moriarty was still smiling, not moving an inch. Sherlock, however, hit the floor just as somebody swung over his head, suspended from the balcony above on a large rope. The figure didn't stop moving when she touched down, but stumbled to pick up the jacket, wrestling to wrap it around Moriarty. Still without stopping, she darted back and grabbed the gun off of Sherlock, pointing it at the explosives.
"Get out of here. I'll be right behind you," she ordered, keeping eye contact with the grinning villian. Nobody moved. Sherlock was staring at the woman, deducing everything he could from her back, his face impassive. She sighed, glancing backwards, "Listen, in two minutes he'll have a backup team here, and in case you hadn't noticed, I can't shoot them from down here while they're up there. Get. The hell. Out!"
Still Sherlock didn't move. John stared to slide unsteadily to his feet, his eye still on Moriarty. The girl looked round again.
"Oh, for crying out loud, I forget, you never listen, do you?" With that, she tucked the gun into her back pocket and grabbed the two men by their wrists, dragging them out of the building.
When she was sure they'd follow her, she let go, sending one last glance back at the pool.
"He won't follow us, but it's nice to be a safe distance," she said, seemingly to herself, "Taxi!"
It wasn't until they'd clambered into the taxi and were well away from the pool that she spoke again.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"You've been following me," Sherlock noted.
"Yes." The woman sighed, "You saw me at the crime scene, after a Study in Pink, didn't you?"
"Hard to miss."
"Hang on," John interrupted, "Does everyone read my blog?"
"There was a link to it on Sherlock's website. Interesting, but you sketch over the details a lot," the woman explained.
"Who are you?"
"Sophie Murdock," Sherlock informed.
"I'm an old friend of Sherlock's. We were in secondary school together, for a short while." Sophie was silent for a short while, as the Taxi pulled up outside 221B Baker Street. It was only when they were safely inside that she visibly relaxed, making eye contact with Sherlock for the first time. After a second, she grinned and pulled him into an awkward hug. Awkward, mainly for the fact that Sherlock stood completely still and rigid, uncertain of how to react.
"Oh, it's been far too long. Look at you! You haven't changed a bit, have you?" she paused, "Well, apart from the fact that you're taller, have different clothes and your voice is lower, but still..."