"If you were dying, if you'd been murdered. In your very last few seconds, what would you say?"

"'Please, God, let me live'..."

"Use your imagination!"

"I don't have to."

Jane laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, her heart beating with anticipation and worry.

Sighing, she turned her head to see her clock. It was nearly one in the morning.

She was still dressed from the day. Same jeans and plaid button-down shirt.

Slowly, she stood up and found her shoes and jacket, slipping them on. She found her hand gun, made sure it was properly loaded.

Jane quietly opened her door and walked down the stairs where she knew Sherlock was.

The door leading to the living room was nearly shut, save for a small inch.

Peering in, Jane saw Sherlock sitting in his usual chair, plucking at his violin strings. He looked...lost.

She knew she shouldn't have snapped at him the way she did, but let's face it, he asked for it.

No, that's wrong, she was just scared that he might not have come back and she would never see him again, and with Adrian showing up didn't help.

Jane took her time to take in his features. He was wearing that purple shirt that she always liked. It made him look very...attractive, being tight and all. His hair was the usual black mess on top of his head. He was wearing black jeans, she immediately like them. (A/N- Who wouldn't?)

A smile graced her lips. She felt like she could stare at him forever and never get tired.

For the first time in three years, Jane felt happy. She had finally gotten her best friend back, and this time, she had no intention of letting him go again.

Jane refused to let someone as pathetic as Adrian Hansford get in the way.

So, as quietly as humanly possible, Jane walked down the stairs, and out of flat 221B.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jane stepped out of the cab and faced the giant building looming in front of her. Letting her eyes take in every window, door, pipe. Already plotting out possible escape routes, as was her training.

Taking a breath, she turned and paid the driver, but just as she was about to turn to leave for the abandoned building, he asked, "Are you sure this is where you want t'go, miss? It's almost two in the mornin' and only bad things happen over 'ere."

Jane gave a smile. "Yes, I'm sure. There's something I need to do, and then I'll leave. Please, don't worry, I'm not doing drugs or anything." she laughed.

He smiled back worriedly. "Well, if you're sure..." He took the money and drove off into the night.

Turning back to the warehouse, Jane wrapped her coat tighter around herself and walked forward.

When she reached the door, she slowly touched the knob, her pulse quickening as dread and fear crept into her.

Jane shut her eyes.

She was a soldier.

She was Captain Jane Watson. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.

She had seen the terrors of war.

Felt the pain of injury, loss, and betrayal.

Carried the burden of those whose lives she had taken, and those whose she failed to save.

She had seen deaths door itself and come back.

She had been bent, broken, and left for dead, and each time she came back stronger than before.

And she would rather re-live it all again, than to stand out in the cold like an idiot due to fright.

Because unlike all those other times, when she mainly did stuff just for the hell of it and impulse, she had something she wanted to protect.

Something she wasn't going to let anyone or anything take away from her ever again, even if she had to taint her already red hands black with more blood.

And if need be, she would die for that something, and in the process, take the one threatening that something with her straight to hell with no regrets.

For you can be sure, Jane Watson may look like an angel, but don't think for even a second that she is one of them.

Turning the knob, Jane entered the warehouse. Looking around, she saw nothing but cobwebs and dust.

She looked towards a large set of stairs, deciding that's where the idiot would be, and walked up them.

When she reached the top, she came to a large room. Before she had a chance to look around, lights flashed on, blinding her for a moment.

Jane walked out near the middle of the room, taking in the boxes and objects that filled it. You could easily hide behind some of them. "Alright, I'm here. Now what?" She called.

A door opened on the other side of the room, and in came Adrian Hansford.

He grinned. "Hello again, Jane. Right on time, as usual."

"Cut the crap and let's get to the point. What do you want?"

Adrian's smile faded. "I told you: the list. You did bring it, didn't you."

"There was nothing to bring. I don't have it."

"I know you do."

"But I don't. It was never given to me even though I asked. I wanted to know the names of all who had died, call it sympathy, but they wouldn't give it to me." She turned back towards the stairs. "Now, if that's all you want, I'll be going back home now."

A gunshot rang as a bullet raced past her, grazing her cheek, and pierced the wall.

Jane turned back to her "old friend" with a face that showed no sign of the pain or shock that she was feeling. Reaching up with her hand, wiped the blood that began to flow. "You could have just said 'wait'."

He lowered the gun. "I know, but you wouldn't have listened."

"Fair enough. Continue?"

Adrian's eyes took on an almost pleading look. "Jane, please, if you give me the list, I'll never show myself before you again."

"Are you deaf? I just said I didn't have it."

"I can't let you leave until you either hand it over, or tell me where it is."

Jane sighed, she had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but she knew it couldn't be avoided.

As quick as lightning, she reached behind her and pulled her gun from her belt, firing a shot in the man across from her, and then flung herself behind one of the boxes, preparing to shoot again.

Adrian threw himself to the ground as the bullet grazed his left arm, shouting, "So you wanna play a game? Fine!"

Jane chose another hiding spot and ran for it, Adrian firing another bullet her way, and her returning the favor as she barely missed and ducked behind the new object.

I've shot two. He's shot three. We've each got the same gun, so ten rounds the limit. So basically another seven to dodge, and eight chances to end it. Brilliant.

Adrian shot up and ran towards her cover, and she took the chance to shoot at him, but the things he ran behind kept getting in the way.

And for a moment, she lost him, only to hear a round being shot somewhere to her left, and then her left forearm feeling hot.

She yelled as pain shot through her and ducked down again, sliding to the other side of her protection.

And Adrian, in his confidence, stood and began to run zigzagged between the objects towards her.

Jane looked at her arm, it wasn't pretty and it was agonizing to move. But that was exactly what she had to do. All she needed this arm for was support for her gun hand, that's all she needed it for.

She popped up again and, catching a quick glimpse of movement, shot in that direction.

It took Jane a moment to register the sound of a cry, and then the sound of a body hitting the ground in agony, but when she did, she said the only that came to her mind, her voice sounding her mixed emotions, "Sniper bait..."

Standing up, she walked over to him. He was on the ground, roughly gasped for air. The bullet had missed anything vital, but it was still enough to make him useless. She kicked his gun away.

As she gazed down at him, their eyes connected, and Jane knew they were thinking the same thing.

Things were reverse now. He was on the ground, and she held his life in her hands.

Jane had one bullet left. She could take revenge for all the pain he had caused her. Revenge for all of their comrades lives he was responsible for. She could end it all.

Jane pointed her gun at his heart, ice in her eyes. As he looked at the gun for a moment, his eyes seemed to calm, and he looked back into hers. Her heart felt like it was being stabbed as she saw the faint, ghost of a smile appear on his lips.

It was then Jane made her decision;

She was not like him.

And she would not become like him.

She lowered the gun. "I'm letting you live. Not because I don't have the nerve or guts to do it, I just don't care what happens to you. You no longer have any impact on my life. I'll call you some help and let you continue your wretched life. I'll also call Mycroft and tell him I've finished the job. You'll be locked up like the dog you are. It's over.

For us, and this pathetic excuse we once called friendship. Goodbye, Adrian."

Jane had begun to walk away when the door that Adrian came out of creaked opened once again, and two large, savage-looking dogs came running out as the door shut itself again.

Jane's eyes went wide. "What the...?"

Adrian grabbed her ankle and gasped. "Jane... run!" before letting go.

Looking back at the dogs, they had gotten closer. She shot at one, killing it instantly, but that was her last round, and the other was still coming. "Dammit!"

Throwing the gun away, Jane turned and ran for her life.

She ran down the stairs, but it jumped down at her, knocking her down.

She grabbed the railing as it bit her leg and began tearing her apart.

"Let go of me!" She yelled as she tried kicking hit. But it wasn't of any use.

Her leg was in shreds, and the beast had caught it's eye on her throat.

Tears began to fill her eyes. Was she really going to die like this? After all she had survived. After all she had been through. Is this really how it ends?

One thought. One last thought filled her mind as the dog bit her shoulder even though she was trying to fight back. One thought practically took over her entire being as her world began to turn red, then black. And with the last of her strength, Jane cried out, "SHERLOCK!"

A gunshot sounded.

The dog fell, dead. A bullet had pierced his skull, killing him instantly.

Sherlock Holmes walked across the distance separating them and kicked the animal off the limp woman.

Gazing down at her, he caught the slight recognition in her eyes as she gave a small smile and said weakly, "Took you long enough..." And then she faded into unconsciousness.

He took in the sight before him.

Blood.

Blood pooled out from her delicate frame.

Her right leg was painted entirely crimson and in shreds, with bit marks covering it.

Her left shoulder was not in as bad condition, but was still bad. Her shirt and jacket dyed with the red liquid.

He had half a mind to shoot the beast again.

Her left forearm had been shot, and was red.

A bullet graze was on her cheek.

If she was not in the state she was in, he would have gone up the stairs and created a scene the devil himself would find horrifying.

Bending down, he pick up Jane bridal style, letting his own clothes become dyed with her blood, and carried her out.

A man in a black Westwood suit and playing with the chewing gum in his mouth, followed by another, bigger man in nice clothes, yet worn in a 'I-don't-care' sort of way walked out the door the dogs ran out of and to where Adrian laid on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

The first man sighed. "Well, looks like Sherlock's DEFINITELY not going to be too happy now, eh, Adrain~?" Adrian coughed and then groaned in pain.

The man looked down at him, giving him a curious look. It was as if he was amused at the sight before him. "Who knew little Jane had that much of a fire in her. It's a shame, though, those were good dogs." He knitted his eyebrows together and frowned slightly.

Giving a slight jerk of the head, he said, "Sebastian, pick Adrian up and get him medical attention. I can't have him dying from blood loss just yet." Letting a smarmy smile play his mouth.

The larger man bent down and flung Adrian over his shoulder like a sack of rice, and then proceeded to follow the other man out again.

Jane slowly regained consciousness.

She hurt, all over. It was painful to even breathe, her left shoulder hurt so bad, and her right leg felt numb.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, flinching as a bright light hit them, and looked around.

It was white. Everything was white. It took her a moment to realize she was in a hospital room. How dull.

Turning her head, she noticed a black clad figure with splotches of red on it sitting in a chair next to the bed.

It was Sherlock.

He gazed at her with that same strange emotion in his eyes that he had before.

It was a good five minutes before Sherlock broke the silence, his voice rumbling low and smooth. "Are you alight?"

Jane opened and closed her mouth several times before answering, finding it hard to speak. "Y-Yeah. About as alright as one can be after what happened."

"I see."

They returned to silence, then Jane remembered something. "Adrian... I shot him. It wasn't fatal, but if it's not attended to, he-"

"As far as I'm aware, he's alive. After I took you out, Mycroft had someone search the place. There was blood, but no body."

"I see..."

Sherlock took another moment before saying, "An old friend, huh... I should have known who it was that came. I noticed you leaving the flat, figuring that you just couldn't sleep as usual and headed out to cool off, so I didn't act. It was when you hadn't come back that I knew something was wrong and head out to search for you."

"How did you know where I was?" She might seem ridiculous, asking Sherlock Holmes such a question, but she really didn't see how he could get that from just walking around the flat, unless he followed her from the beginning.

"As I was looking for you, I saw a cab driver getting off his shift, when I went up and described you, he told me. I ran there immediately."

"Ah."

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together. "What did Dr. Hansford want?"

Jane looked up at the ceiling. "A list." She said simply.

He gave her a confused look. "List?"

"A list of all the soldiers who were killed when he betrayed the army. I don't know why he wanted it, but..."

"Did you give it to him?"

"No. Didn't have it. Used to, but I left it in my pants pocket one time and washed it. Just my luck." She chuckled.

Sherlock smiled amusedly, then said. "Well, the doctor said you will be fine. They removed the bullet from your arm and patched it up. Your shoulder was bitten rather badly, but was mendable. You'll be able to move it just fine after a while. Your leg, on the other hand..."

"I can barely feel it..."

"Yes, well, they had to sow the muscles back together and mend all the other damage, luckily none was done to the bone. It will take a while, but it should be fine again. Nothing permanent."

"Mm..."

"Do you know why he wanted the list, Jane?"

She thought a moment before, painfully, sitting up. "No. Can you think of anything?"

He sat next to her on the bed and answered in about two seconds flat. "It's possible that he was searching for something. A certain name, most likely. One that had influence."

"Why would he-?"

He cut her off. "I'm getting to that. With the right methods, he could gain quite a bit of money off that person's family. OR..." He then began to describe fifty other choices with hand gestures and in the usual childish manner.

Jane rolled her eyes, knowing that she shouldn't have asked. The first was most likely, so she zoned out and got herself comfortable.

It was when it hit the twenty-minute mark that she was getting annoyed.

She took a moment to look at his face as he spoke. Just how many facial expressions can one have when speaking? She wondered.

She then felt a desire that she no longer had any intention of ignoring. "Sherlock."

He stopped and raised is eyebrows in question. "Do me a favor, shut up." In one swift movement, Jane reached forward with her good arm and pulled his head toward her.

Their lips met, and it was... something that you can't quite put into words. It was like that moment when you first smell a rose, or first see a rainbow, only better.

The feelings running through Jane's heart were indescribable, but perhaps that's because what she was feeling was never meant to be described, it was something you had to feel to understand.

And now that Jane felt it, she realized that all those fairy tales and movies and love stories never quite did it justice.

The happiness that one felt was enough to make your heart burst. And the powerful emotion coursing through ones body was so strong, that if you even tried to hold it back, it would consume you entirely.

And Jane knew what it was, that emotion. The emotion that she had recognized three years ago.

Love.

That one emotion that had the power to both heal and rip you apart at the same time. The one that no dictionary would ever be able to describe.

That was what she was feeling.

Sherlock resisted at first, not knowing what to do, but then relaxed.

He didn't move, but instead placed a hand on Jane's cheek and tenderly kissed back.

After all, Sherlock may have been told on more that one occasion that he had a heart of ice and stone.

That he was completely incapable of love.

And they were right, that is, if they were talking about his feeling towards them.

But as for the woman who was now with him, that was another story.

*hyperventilating in corner*