Hey everyone! Sorry for the authors note, I understand it may have annoyed some people *cough cough

LoveLoveMeDoDMLL

Cough cough* ;)

But the next chapter is ready! I hope you enjoy everyone!:) The truth comes out in this chapter! And it's extra long this time! :)

Chapter 3: The Truth

John looks over at Sherlock silently; he was watching the young girl.

He'd never seen him so worried about another person. From what he'd gathered, his flatmate hadn't even known the girl for a particularly long time. But clearly, he did care for her a great deal. John had never seen Sherlock act in such a way.

Obviously he showed no outwards sign of such an emotion but John knew him well enough to see the signs.

She was bandaged to the point that you couldn't see any skin, from her shoulders to her abdomen. The gun shots had stopped bleeding a while ago, but they were still horrendous. An oxygen mask was fitted over her face.

"Sherlock," I spoke quietly. Said man glanced at me.

"When she comes around, we have to ask for her side of the story. We need to know what happened to her." Sherlock was silent for a time.

"I know."

When I awoke next time around, numbness permeated my every being. I felt no pain, but I knew that it was there. The pain killers must have been doing there job properly. But it only amplified the emptiness that I felt inside.

Jim had tried to kill me. Had intended to kill me; there had been no hesitation. He'd left me for dead.

But I was still here.

I almost wondered if it was worth still being here. It would be easier for me if I had just died when Jim had meant me to. He never left a job unfinished; it wasn't unreasonable to assume that he would come after me again. I didn't want to go through that again.

But then I felt guilty. Sherlock, John, the hospital staff; they'd worked hard to keep me alive and tend to my wounds; it would be selfish to think such a thing. Besides, Sherlock was a close friend; he'd be upset, though not outwardly, if I died.

I shifted slightly and groaned in pain; the pain killer hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped they had.

"Sherlock, I think she's waking up!"

I inwardly cursed; they'd want to know more. They were going to interrogate me. If the doctor didn't, then Sherlock definitely would. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked blearily around; everything was a little blurry. I focused my attention on the two large dark blobs which I assumed to be my two... Friends? Were they friends? Sherlock probably qualified, but did the other?

I confirmed with myself that they probably did; they had saved my life.

"Sherlock..." I murmured. "How long...?" He frowned. "You've been in a coma," he spoke quietly. "It's been almost two weeks."

I shut my eyes with a sigh. "I see," I spoke quietly.

Sherlock looked uncomfortable. "You nearly died you know," he spoke quietly. I gave him a hard look. "I know," I replied just as quietly. "It was my brother who shot ME you know." John frowned.

"How long has this been going on for?" He asked gently. I looked away from them both. "With Jim? Since I was 15." Sherlock gritted his teeth. "You should have told me," He spoke frustratedly. "I could have done something about it."

I sighed. "It's difficult to explain," I told them uncertainly. "He was... Jim was always so regretful after he hurt me. It was almost like he's in a trance." At their confused expressions I continued. "Jim has, for lack if a better word, a good side and a dark side; most of the time he is met on a good side and he's my brother. My best friend, not as cruel and he'd far rather die than hurt me himself. He'll be furious with himself now; it wouldn't surprise me if he's hurting himself. What you saw earlier was his dark side; faraway looks, far more vulgar and violent. Jim is mad and sick enough when he's lucid but when he's not in control, he loses all sense. He'll kill anyone or hurt anyone. Even me."

Sherlock and John frowned. "When did this start?" Sherlock inquired. I shook my head. "I'm not sure," I told him truthfully. "I never noticed it. Not until he hit me for the first time." John looked uncomfortable. "Would you mind... Telling us more? It might give us a better idea about your brother."

I stiffened and looked down; I'd never told anyone about what had happened in my youth. Even me and Jim never discussed it.

Sherlock was about to speak, when I cut him off. "No it's all right," I told him quietly. "I need to... Tell someone about what happened. I can't say I give a damn about who my brother is becoming; that monster doesn't deserve to be defended. But that's not what he's really like; if he could control it, my brother would never..."

I trailed off and took a deep breath, finally looking up. "I must sound ridiculous. A deluded child with a fucked up childhood trying to defend a criminal mastermind who beats her, nearly killed her." John shook his head. "You don't sound ridiculous," he told me quietly. "You sound like someone who's been trapped her whole life by a cage formed by lies and fear; you just want to tell someone about you. As you are and not shadowed by the impression of your brother."

I blinked, not quite sure how to react. "Thank you." I took a deep breath before beginning.

"Our parents... didn't look after me. Neither of us. They didn't when Jim was young and when I came along, he looked out for me. Looked after me like a father should have done. Made sure I ate, looked presentable for school, did my homework; everything literally.

"Both our parents were alcoholics. They'd beaten Jim when he was young, drunken rages often the cause but they'd do it sober too. They didn't hurt either of us as much as they had done when Jim was young; couldn't be bothered. They had to look after me properly if I wanted to live past my third birthday; I was a sickly child."

I huffed humourlessly. "It still happened though. More often than either of us would have liked it to. Jim was like my guardian angel in those years. He always tried to stop them from beating me; he'd never do it when he was being hit, but he'd always fought back when my parents turned on me. He shouted abuse and shielded me. They often became more violent and more often than not, it didn't stop them from getting to me. They still hurt me. Many, many times. But Jim tried.

"He'd been a professional criminal for 3 years already by the age of 16. He was making a name for himself; so many people on the streets already backed away when I said Jim was my brother. He was my rock. My best friend. I idolised him. But then it happened.

Jim moved out at 16."

I shook my head, shutting my eyes and leaning back in my bed. Sherlock and John watched patiently but seemed to know what was coming and looked a little pained. "Your parents..." John spoke quietly. I inclined my head and opened my eyes.

"Everything..." I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to make my voice clearer and stronger. "Everything went downhill from then on."

"Angie," he spoke gently. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But soon I'm going to be... Going to be moving out."

I felt my whole world stand still.

"What?" I croaked, tears already gathering in my eyes. His eyes softened. "Three days time," he explained softly. "I'll be leaving then. I've got to move on and I can now. I've got a flat."

I shook away the tears and smiled. "You lucky sod," I spoke with a slight tremor to my mock angry voice. "You better come back and visit. They'll go bat shit once they find out you're gone."

Jim laughed. "I doubt they'll realise I'm gone," he spoke in amusement, moving to sit down beside me. "They've more or less ignored me recently."

That was true at least. They'd acted like he was invisible these last few weeks.

"But I've got something for you honey," he spoke enthusiastically. "Check it out!" He gave me a box and I opened it curiously; I squealed when I saw what it was. "A phone?!" I exclaimed incredulously. "Jim..."

He smiled at me and put it in my hands, closing them over the phone. "My number is already in there. Any time you want to talk, text whatever just do it. I'll reply. I'm high enough now that I can more or less do what I want."

I nodded, grinning happily. "Thank you so much," I spoke, jumping on him and hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged back.

"You're welcome Angie. Now most importantly," he spoke seriously. "If anything happens at home, and I mean anything, I want you to phone text or whatever immediately. I'll be right over as soon as I can."

I felt my smile slide slightly but I nodded. "I will," I spoke quietly. "Thank you so much Jim." The tears were back. "I'm going to miss you so much." His arms tightened on me. "And I you," he spoke just as quietly. "You're my baby sister, 10 years old and getting older, I may not be here, but don't you think for one second that I won't be there for you. Anything you need, get in touch. Do you promise me?"

I nodded, wiping my tears. "I promise."

He smiled. "Good."

Sherlock's eyes were slightly narrowed. "That doesn't sound like your brother at all."

I nodded. "It kills me inside," I spoke bitterly. "Everyday I have to watch the descent of my brother. The madness. The violence. The insanity. His own fear at what he's becoming-" I felt tears rise in my eyes and I had to pause, covering my eyes momentarily to compose myself. When I pulled them away, I felt far less steady and had to swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry. Please let me continue." When they both nodded, I sighed.

"He left three days later and I cried all of that day after he was gone. Everything was fine at home for a while. I walked carefully around both my parents and they ignored me; perfect harmony. Jim leaving seemed to have changed something in them; they didn't care anymore. They didn't even look at me unless they were asking me to bugger off. But then it all went wrong. I was 13." I actually gritted my teeth in anger and clenched my fists, making them turn white. Both men noticed this.

"I'd kept in good touch with Jim, texting him everyday and phoning him as often as I could. I had been to see him several times and had gone out to eat together countless times, but I hadn't been to see him yet at his home yet; he was trying to set up his business and needed his time at home to be as beneficial to him as possible. I was walking past the kitchen, having gotten back late after school, when my dad came out of the kitchen." My eyes darkened. "He reeked of alcohol. He was drunk."

"Where is he?" He slurred, bracing a hand on the wall next to my head. I stiffened. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly. He scoffed. "Your brother," he spat the word out angrily. "Where is he? He's moved out but didn't bloody tell us where he is. He'd have told you."

I told him the truth. "I don't know."

He sneered. "Of course you do, your brother tells you everything. Now I'm gonna ask again; where is he?"

I scowled, getting more pissed off. "And I'm going to tell you again; I don't know!"

He glared at me and I stepped back, noticing the warning signs. He was getting dangerously angry. I had to leave him cool off otherwise he would be violent.

"He advanced threateningly and I stepped back with alarm running through me. "Bitch, if you don't tell me I'll beat it out of you!" My eyes widened and I turned and ran up the stairs, him following close behind.

"COME BACK HERE!"

I collapsed into my room and slammed the door shut, putting the lock in place with shaking fingers. I cried out when the door banged from the other side. "OPEN THIS DOOR!" He bellowed, making me whimper in fear. I ran to the chest of drawers and with a grunt shoved it in front of the door. I heard him let out a roar o fury before pushing against the door again.

I ran to the back of the room and huddled in the corner, body shaking in fear and tears selling in my eyes. I heard a crack and I froze.

He was breaking down the door.

I sobbed quietly before feeling around in my pocket, trying to find the number. I pressed the ring button and waited with a fast beating heart for Jim to pick up.

"Hey Angie," he answered wearily. "Can this wait? I've got an important task to sort out-"

"Dads trying to break into my room!" I spoke in a croaky, fearful whisper. "He wanted to know where you are and he won't take no for an answer!"

At another ominous crack, I cried out in fear and huddled further into the corner.

"Is that him?" He asked in alarm. I nodded frantically, even though he couldn't see it. "Yes, yes it is, please Jim I'm sorry but you need to help me. He's going to kill me this time!"

"I'm coming," he yelled; I knew he was moving because I could hear interference in the background. "I'm coming, I'll be five minutes; hide. Hide and defend yourself if you need to but DON'T fight back. Keep talking to me, don't hang up!" I took in a shaky breath and continued. "They've been so good Jim," I spoke quietly. "They've been so good; what went WRONG?!"

"OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW YOU BITCH OR I'LL END YOU!"

I sobbed again and held the phone closer to my ear. I crawled across the floor and hid myself in the wardrobe.

"It's not you Angie," he insisted firmly, his voice now reverberating around the small space. "It's not your fault- I'm in the car now I'll be there even sooner that I thought. Hang on ok? I've brought a weapon, so if things get bad I'll do something drastic all right?"

"Ok," I smiled wobbly. "Ok, but Jim- please just talk to me all right? Keep talking to me-"

"I'll be there soon," he promised. "I'm literally a few streets away, don't hang up-"

The door finally cracked open and I heard him force it off its hinges with a sickening metal screech. "Oh god he's in Jim," I whispered. "He's in the room!"

"Stay quiet," he murmured but I detected a hint of panic now. "Don't make a sound I'm really close now you've just got to-" The door to the wardrobe flung open and I was met with the red and furious face of my father. "Found you little mouse," he nearly whispered.

I screamed.

He bodily dragged me out of the small space but I clung on as long as I could. I heard Jim yelling loudly. "Angie? ANGIE?!"

"JIM!" I screamed as I was pulled out. "JIM!"

Dad threw me to the ground and was upon me faster than I could react.

He punched me hard in the stomach and I cried out, trying to push away from him but to no avail. He continued his barrage of hits to the body and arms until I finally hit him back.

He looked stunned for a moment before he darkened considerably. His fist pulled back and he punched me squarely in the face, directly above the cheek. My head snapped to the side and I didn't even register the pain at first; only the sickening sound that was made. He dropped me to the floor suddenly and I let myself fall, too pained to even bother stopping myself.

"Angie..." Sherlock murmured, some small amount of horror evident. I gave him a sharp look. "Don't pity me," I snapped. "That's not what I want from either of you. It was a long time ago."

Sherlock nodded and John looked mildly apologetic. "Please continue."

When the haze from my eyes disappeared, I shifted my eyes to where a large dark figure was in my peripheral vision.

It was Jim. And my father was unconscious on the floor.

I coughed, blood finally making it's way out of my body. I pushed my body up slowly with my arms and immediately he rushed over to me, assisting me gently so that I could get onto the bed. Once I was laid down I let out a huff of breath and winced at my injuries.

I looked up at Jim to see him watching me with deeply ingrained regret. "I'm so sorry," he spoke through gritted teeth. "I wasn't fast enough. I should have-" I weakly held up and arm to place my hand on his. His we're warmer than mine. "It's all right," I spoke quietly. "You did what you could. And besides," I coughed slightly which quickly became a full blown wheezing cough. He looked alarmed and sat me up, rubbing my back gently. I nodded my thanks and continued.

"Besides," I repeated croakily. "I'm not dead am I?"

He didn't look amused but he looked more at ease. "True enough," he spoke roughly. "But I'm not having this." I tilted my head at him. He nodded towards our father. "I'm not letting him have the opportunity to do that again, or mum; you're coming back with me tonight."

My eyes lit and my jaw dropped. "Seriously?" I asked incredulously. "You're really- Seriously?!" I exclaimed again, unable to keep the excitement out of my to e this time. He nodded and laughed at my childishness. "Yup; you're coming with me kiddo."

I grinned and sat up straighter and then not so delicately threw myself at him. He fell over on the bed whilst I embraced him, this time crying tears of happiness. "Thank you," I spoke shakily. "Thank you so much...!"

John smiled, clearly forgetting this was Jim we were talking about. He should know that this story wasn't going to get better. "So he took you to live with him?"

I nodded, smiling. "Yes. Those were probably the happiest times of my life. Until I turned 15 anyway."

I paused. "I still have a scar from then you," I added thoughtfully, pulling up the sleeve of my t-shirt. They leaned forwards and John flinched when he saw the long, thickish pale mark in my skin.

I pulled the sleeve back, already feeling uncomfortable. "He scratched my arm so hard, several layers of skin were peeled back; the cut was deep but it didn't bleed all that much. It was like a burn. It never really healed properly."

I shook my head. "Anyway, that was that. I went to live with Jim in his apartment after that. My parents never came looking for me again after that."

"I should think not!" John interrupted indignantly, making me smile slightly. "It was mostly because they didn't care. And probably also because we had photographed the injuries I had sustained during his attack, which I'd like to mention were extensive, and had threatened them with the authorities if they ever came near us again.

"For a time, it must seemed like I was a stupidly naive little girl who idolised my brother heroically and almost idiotically. That was partly true in all fairness, but not to the extent that you would believe. People almost thought that I knew nothing about my brother. But everyone should be under no illusions when it comes to me. I knew that my brother was really like behind closed doors.

"He toned it down a lot when I was around because he cared for me and my opinion of him; he had a certain obligation as an older brother to look after me and an almost unbreakable bond was formed when he saved me over the years. But that didn't mean he never showed his darker, violent side to me when he lost control." I felt my brows furrow slightly and lips to fall in sadness. Sherlock looked away, looking shamed and guilty. "I had both seen it and been threatened countless times after I moved in with him and I had been subjected to it more times than I'd like to mention. I'd do anything for my brother. I loved him more than anything. But that didn't mean he didn't scare me.

"I loved him so much. I cared for him more than anything else the world could offer me. But sometimes, I would cry at night because of the fear he instilled." I shut my eyes and spoke again in a tired voice.

"I loved my brother, but sometimes I wondered if he loved me." At the boys silence, I continued dully. "He cared for me like my father should have done in the years I was dependant. We had a good bond, but things changed when his work became more demanding. He got stressed. He became paranoid. Nervous.

"After a particular case he was working on, I came to see him and he lashed out at me, hitting me hard in the face. He was going to pull a weapon until I yelled at him to stop. "He seemed to have come out some sort of trance and he was horrified. Not knowing what to do, he ran from the study and locked himself in his room." I felt the weight of the room seem to increase and I held both hands to my face, leaning into it as if for comfort.

"I knocked on his door several hours later and found him sat on his bed with his knees to his chest like a child. He didn't cry. Jim never cried. But he looked very shaken and his eyes were red rimmed and glassy. He stared straight ahead and seemed oblivious to everything but his own thoughts.

"Fearing his reaction, I put a hand on his arm and sat beside him. He didn't acknowledge me, but his blinks became far more frequent. Suddenly he turned and buried his face in my lap, shaking uncontrollably. I softly stroked his head as he shook uncontrollably, his voice rough and croaky when he finally spoke.

" 'I'm sorry Angie... I'm so sorry...' I shushed him quietly and told him that it was alright. It was all he said for a while after that. I told him it was fine and that he hasn't really done any real damage. But he was never quite the same after that. That's when I first realised he was becoming unstable. He was 21. I was 15."

"So that was the first time you ever saw him lose control?" Sherlock asked. I nodded, not looking away from my hands. "It happened less at first but then, after the first year, it happened far more often. Sometimes he pushed me. Other times he would shove me against a wall and shout at me. He even hit me with a gun once." I twitched slightly at the memory and John let out a small gasp. I cringed slightly. "That one hurt.

"But I never once told anyone. Who would do anything about it? My brother was a criminal mastermind but his record was clean; if I reported him, no one was likely to take it really seriously once they found he had a good record. But the alternative was that people might investigate him. Find out about him. About US and the things we'd been involved in. I didn't want that and I couldn't do it to my brother. Not after everything he had done for me.

"He'd probably kill them anyway. Maybe even me if I wasn't careful. But that didn't stop his slow descent into darkness.

"I don't know when Jim started becoming like he was. He was good most of the time, really. He had a good side and a dark side; I could tell what mood he was in based on his eyes. The dark side was uncontrollably violent and angry; that was how Jim became as feared as he was now. Rumours circulate. The devil wears Westwood." I chuckled slightly at the joke and shook my head to stop.

"He can usually control this side of him, but it can be set off by the slightest thing. That's why I was so wary. I very rarely see the side of the brother I used to know. He doesn't like to be as nice anymore.

"I couldn't be sure what he cared for more; his work or his sister. But I was always aware of one thing; he would one day succumb completely to the darkness. The madness would take over completely. He would have no qualms about killing me if I got in his way. Not then."

Looking up, Sherlock seemed to understand what I was getting at. "That time has come?" I was silent for a while.

"I think so," I spoke slowly. "I didn't think he'd kill me. Not when he had some form of a conscience. I was almost as surprised as you when he shot me. But hurting me was no issue if it got him what he wanted. He still loved me but he would hurt me if he needed to. So we stayed together. When I hit 16 myself, Jim had pretty much made it. He was a legend among the criminal class and no one shady ever threatened or came near me; Jim had left a death threat carved on the body of the last person who tried to hurt me. It was embarrassing but protective in a way. But worrying and terrifying in another," I stared at the floor blankly. "Nothing is good about being the reason for a dead body.

"Nothing he did shocked me; I'd heard and seen it all. And then the next day something else would come up and surprise me. As much as I'm loathed to admit it, I loved the work."

Sherlock looked curious. "16? I thought... Weren't you in school then?" I felt heat rise to my face and they both gave me a questioning look. "You met me when I was on a job Sherlock," I spoke in embarrassment, averting his eyes to avoid blushing further. "I wasn't actually a pupil at that school." John looked confused. "Then what school were you at? What do you mean you were on a job?"

I shook my head and looked up, embarrassment unavoidable now. "I wasn't at ANY school. I... I finished secondary school as well as college by the age of 14."

Sherlock looked stunned but composed himself quickly. "What?" He snapped. "Impossible, even I-"

I gave him an irritated look. "Just because I am similar to you does not mean that I am not just as good," I told him hotly. "I may have the potential to be better if you didn't even manage such a feat. Don't be shallow."

John interrupted the awkward silence. "So what did you take for your exams?" I smiled slightly in his direction, grateful for the interruption. "I was best at psychology, forensics and English but I did history and art as well. I moved onto a London uni that was founded for the particularly gifted and whilst I was the youngest there, I still made good friends. I moved on again after finishing two degrees in forensics and Psychology."

John looked incredulous. "That's unbelievable," he murmured. I smiled wryly and nodded. "No one believes me until I show them the certificates, don't feel too bad John. I was just... Particularly academic. And besides, I had little else to focus on." I gave Sherlock a cheeky wink. "Apparently more so than Sherlock." Sherlock's pale face held a slightly more pink tinge. He knew I knew about his past drug history. It was one of the first things I had read about him when we first met.

"Anyway, I was going to ask to work with my brother; there wasn't really anything else I could think of doing but I wasn't not sure how he'd react though." I shrugged.

"Luckily, or unluckily as the case may be, he was really excited about it. He had exclaimed about how brilliant this was going to be with me by his side. He hugged me like I had saved his life. He even said 'I was hoping you'd ask me!'

"And that's it really. After that I was more or less his second in command and I worked with his forensics force and profiling team."

I left them to their thoughts an leaned back in my chair, finally content.

"You've left something out," Sherlock spoke suddenly. I looked up in false surprise, masking the wariness I felt. "What do you mean?" I inquired lightly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "The way that Jim looked at you that night was surprised but it also held relief; why would be be relieved to see you? He had the situation completely under control and, as we gathered later, he was most displeased with the interruption."

He then looked at me more closely, smirking, and I felt my front start to crumble; he'd figured it out.

"You looked surprised, just like your brother was but you also looked slightly fearful, defensive in stance and it wasn't because of the men following you. So that means you feared his reaction to something. Linking all the facts together..." He gave me a piercing look.

"Him relieved to see you, you fearful about something; it was his reaction was what you were scared of. Conclusion? You've been missing."

I was silent for a time and John looked slightly awed but alert. I gave Sherlock a hard look before sighing wearily. "Yes," I spoke quietly, not looking at either of them. "I left about a month or so ago without telling Jim. I'd had enough. I didn't want to work on his cases anymore; some of them were sick. Kidnap children, dispose of members of our group who'd done nothing wrong, kill innocent people who get into a mans BLOODY taxi!"

Sherlock and John exchanged looks. "I couldn't STAND it! I was the one who was left to make them untraceable to Jim, I was the one who had to work out all the forensics of the final crime scene and the psychology behind the clients targets. I was responsible for making the cases untraceable; I couldn't stand the guilt! I didn't want anymore people, any more families, to rot because of my work!"

I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to be a criminal. I didn't want to be like my parents and hurt needlessly. That's why I left. I had confronted Jim a few days before I left and he refused to let me leave officially, saying that I was too far in now to leave." I pulled the hair from behind my ear to reveal a slightly puckered and healing scar. It wasn't particularly deep but it ran from the top of my jaw to my hairline.

John gritted his teeth and shut his eyes briefly. Sherlock's eyes narrowed sharply. I pulled the hair back over it.

"I was lucky that I was proficient enough in first aid to stop the bleeding," I told them quietly. "It could have easily killed me. Scalp wounds don't stop bleeding and he only just nicked part of it."

Sherlock gave me a hard look. "You're not going back." He spoke quietly, face carefully blank. I glanced at him sharply. "Who said I wanted to?" I growled. Sherlock gritted his teeth in irritation.

"Sherlock." John warned. He turned to me and smiled slightly. "You're welcome to come back with us for the time being. Until we've dealed with your brother."

I looked away from him. "Jim... Will be after me when he finds out I'm alive." John paused. "What do you mean?" He asked seriously, leaning forward. "Hurting you wasn't enough?"

I flinched slightly at his tone. "He'll want to finish what he started," I explained calmly. More calmly than I probably should have been feeling. "Jim always finishes a job. He'll come after me himself; he won't allow anyone else to kill his sister."

Sherlock suddenly stood angrily and me and John looked up in alarm. "How can you say that so nonchalantly?" He seethed. "Don't you realise what you're saying? Your brother is going to find you and kill you in cold blood!"

My eyes flicked to him. "He is a consulting criminal," I replied evenly. "His intelligence far outstrips my own; I'll only be able to deal with it when the time comes. There's nothing I can do to stop it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "So what do you want us to do, let him kill you? Allow you to die?" I glared at him now, turning to him properly. "Hey, what am I supposed to do?" I growled. "What do you expect from me? My BROTHER has tried to kill me. He WILL try again-"

"Don't let him win!" He yelled, startling me and John. I had never heard him shout. "For god's sake, don't let him win! This will become a game for him; a game that involves killing his only sister. His LITTLE sister! Are you so dense that you don't realise how mad that is? Are you going to let him become that monster?!"

My brows furrowed slightly in my distress as I hung my head. "I don't want him to," I spoke quietly. "I don't want him to kill me, nor do I want to die. I've got a plan but for the time being I'm keeping it to myself."

Sherlock looked curious but didn't say anything. "I understand," he said as he stood to his feet. "If you need us, you know where to find me." I nodded and smiled slightly as they left the room.

Sherlock paused before looking back to me. "Be careful."

My smile widened. "I can try."

And cut! Hope you all enjoyed that, look forward to the next chapter! Check out Tumblr. if you can please! (don't say a word LoveLoveMeDoDMLL) :)

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