WARNING SPOILERS

This story takes place at the end of episode 3 of the series.

Please note: English is not my native language, I did my best, but there might be mistakes, feel free to point them out.

Private Entries.

First Entry.

Sherlock BBC series.

Fan Fiction by Bumblebee.

"Catch you later." Sherlock calls after Moriarty.

"No you won't!" He returns in his annoying voice.

Suddenly Sherlock turned to me and started pulling at the coat. "Alright?" He asks, but my mind wasn't completely functioning. "Are you alright?" He insisted.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Sherlock pulled the zipper of the coat down and unclipped the bomb belt. "I'm fine Sherlock." The man stood behind me now and I started pulling my arms out of the sleeves. "Sherlock." What? Calm down? I wasn't calm. I Just needed him to respond. I was unnerved, shaky and I had been afraid we were going to die! "Sherlock!" Sherlock slid the coat away from us and then left trough the door next to us. Blood rushed through my head and I had to sit down. Taking deep breaths I watched Sherlock enter the pool area again. "Are you alright?" I asked. He looked distressed and nervous.

"Me? Yeah fine…I'm fine" The way he passed around and rubbed the back of his head with my gun told me he wasn't. "I'm fine…that thing…that you offered to do…that was uhm… good."

I felt strange with Sherlock's way of thanking me. I felt almost embarrassed, though I wasn't sure why. "I'm glad no one saw that."

"Hm?"

"You ripping of my clothes, people might talk." They already did. I thought.

"People do little else." Sherlock spoke my thoughts out loud and smiled at me. I returned it and slowly got up. His lips turned into a thin line as he stared at my chest. I followed his gaze and inhaled sharply.

A door banged open against the wall. "Sorry boys!" Moriarty had returned. "I'm so changeable! It is a weakness of mine, but to be fair to myself; it is my only weakness." Both of us now had guns pointed at us. "You can't be allowed to continue! You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

Sherlock slowly turned. "Probably my answer already crossed yours." He faced Moriarty and aimed the gun at him. Then carefully lowered it a bit. He was aiming at the bomb now. I swallowed and felt helpless. I wanted to do something, but didn't know what. Moriarty clearly wanted us dead. Sherlock dead, I just got caught up in all of it. No that wasn't true, I chose to follow Sherlock. I wanted to and I don't regret it. I just didn't want it to end.

Moriarty looked serious for a moment then looked back at Sherlock with a smile. I looked at Sherlock and could have sworn amusement was dancing in his eyes as well. It was such a difference from only a moment ago when he was so worried. Didn't he realize that if he fired the gun they would all be dead? Of course he did, but a bluf wouldn't work on Moriarty, I guess it all depended on how much Moriarty wanted to live. I wanted to live! I wanted Sherlock to live! The adventures would stop, their talks would never happen again! I admire Sherlock Holmes even though we bicker. Hell I wanted to continue arguing! This man had given me a new life and I didn't want it to end like this! I could see it now on the front page; SWIMMING POOL BLOWN UP. PEOPLE MIGHT HAVE BEEN INSIDE! And once they've done their investigation, Anderson would come up with the fact that Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick had managed to blow themselves up, along with a couple of other guys. They would probably never find out who.

Moriarty began to laugh. "Alright, you're too entertaining. You can stick around for now! Now be good boys and stick around till I'm gone, yes? Ta ta!"

"Stop!" I yelled and Moriarty did. Sherlock was still pointing the gun.

Sherlock finished my words; "How do we know you won't have us killed the moment you leave."

I was shaking with fear and adrenaline.

"I promise." I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

Sherlock seemed to be having the same doubts, but after a moment he lowers the gun and with a smile Moriarty leaves. The guns were still aimed at us. I could feel my heart hammering between my ears and smell my own sweat. I was rooted the ground, Sherlock didn't move either.

Eventually only one dot remained on each of us. Then after another few minutes that one too disappeared and I felt a prickle of relief enter me. Not enough to make me move, but it eased my breathing a bit.

Sherlock moved and without thinking I grabbed his arm before he could leave the pool. I have to stop him! Was all I could think. My emotions must have been painfully clear on my face, because Sherlock stopped and stared at me. He was reading my emotions. My feelings; the fear for myself, but also for him, the bit of relief perhaps and something else. I wasn't sure right away, but then realized it was longing. The moment I realized it myself, so did Sherlock, or perhaps he was waiting for me to do so. He leaned in and kissed me hard. I kissed him back. I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. I kept kissing him. He tasted slightly bitter and I faintly registered he too smelled of sweat. It ended as abrupt as it started. We were both out of breath and embarrassed.

"Maybe we should go home." I suggested after the silence became too much.

Sherlock swallowed. "Yes."

~Fin

Thank you for reading. Yes I do plan on writing more, but I don't know yet how many. I guess it all depends on how soon it will bore me. ~wink~