It had been a few years since Arabella had last seen Sherlock, it was when he was in hospital after he was shot by Mary, she crept into his room late that night.
"I wondered when you'd arrive" Sherlock smirked, trying to sit up the best he could surrounded by wires and the pain in his that chest restricted him.
She gently smacked his hand "Shut up you, I couldn't just pop in like everyone else."
"It is you that wanted our friendship kept a secret remember." He remarked gazing into her hazel coloured eyes.
"We can't change that now, I'd become a target you've made too many enemies. God knows I have enough of my own"
"Being a con woman will rarely make you many allies, you're lucky Mycroft discovered you last time. The bank of England was a step too far don't you think?" He questioned, taking in every feature of her face, he didn't know when he would next have the pleasure of seeing her again.
"Perhaps, at least it hasn't gotten me shot…yet" She murmured as she moved closer to Sherlock's face, she planted a light kiss on his lips, she wanted more but knew she couldn't, he was too injured and it was too risky.
"Leaving so soon?" Sherlock remarked.
"Yes, I have a meeting this evening." And on that she turned and left.
As she lay on the cold, wet pavement, dying it was that of all of her memories came to her.
"Bloody Sherlock Holmes" She whispered as everything clouded over and she drifted into unconsciousness.
She gained consciousness again, which was unexpected to her.
"Someone must have found me, fuck! I need to get out of here before it's too late" She thought as she took in her surroundings, but it all seemed so familiar to her, she'd been here before. It was in that moment she realised she was at Baker Street, in Sherlock's Bed! How did she get here? How did she know where she was?
She called out "Sherlock! Sherlock!" Her voice was raspy she realised she was desperate for a drink, her throat was so dry. Instead of Sherlock who she expected to see a short, blonde haired man appeared in the doorway. She panicked and tried to get up and immediately fell over due to the searing pain coming from her wound on her side.
"Please don't, I'm trying to help. I'm Dr John Watson, Sherlock's friend. He called me after you were brought here." He reassured her as he picked her up off the floor and gently placed her back onto the bed.
"Where's Sherlock?" She asked, with fear in her voice. A con woman can never trust a stranger, they could also be lying.
"He's gone out." He answered.
"Typical Sherlock" She thought, his closest friend brought to him injured and he buggers off!
"How did I get here anyway?" She asked.
"One of his homeless network found you and brought you here, you were in a pretty bad way. Who shot you?" John replied.
"It doesn't matter, it doesn't concern you. Could you please help me up? I need to leave." She winced as she tried to shuffle out of the bed.
"No, lie back, you've been shot at and beaten up. I suspect your ribs are broken but I can't be sure you need to rest for a few days you are in no fit state to move." John sternly replied, holding her back against the pillows.
She ignored him and turned to stand up, she winced as the searing pain returned she silently cursed the bastard that did this to her. She would make sure she would return the favour in time. She battled through the pain and ignored Johns' pleas to lift herself off the bed, the longer she stayed her the more likely it would compromise her safety and Sherlock's also. She reached for her clothes which were torn and bloodied and began to dress.
"Please don't you'll only injure yourself" John pleaded.
She continued to ignore john and opened the door, she walked down to the front door where she met Sherlock as soon as she opened it.