Chapter 7

Evening

Pain. White, blinding pain. Cuts and bruises all over and a massive slash on her leg, she could feel the blood pouring from it. Head pounding from a hangover remnant and the damn chloroform. Cracking open her eyes, Eleanor quickly wished she hadn't. Her jeans were caked with blood. A small detached part of her brain was thankful she had got dressed. That would have been seriously demeaning. There were two men with guns and alcohol jeering at her. Her captors.

"Hiii, my deeeaar giirll..." Drawled one imitating an Irish accent. He sounded mad and dangerous. On it's own accord, her mouth moved.

"What's with the accent, leprechaun? It's not your natural voice."

The man screamed at her and smashed a bottle on the floor. Oh yeah, dangerous. South-east England though. Not Irish. Sad and angry about this. Eleanor's brain was cataloguing facts like it did in History class. Blond hair. Green eyes. Tall, 6ft 5" probably. She tugged at her restraints, but it just made her arms hurt and the men laugh. They sat by a fire in a barrel and leered at her. Eleanor shivered.

Sherlock Holmes was proud and happy. Moriarty's ring had been eliminated, for the exception of Sebastian Moran, and he could see John again. They could take Moriarty's right-hand down together. He had no idea how receptive the world would be of him, but it was going to have to get used to having him around again.

Katie was panicking. The police did not believe them, as a police car had just passed the alley and seen nothing. John was at the surgery and could not help. They were going it alone, and terrified.

The three girls reached the alley and crept behind the two men. Katie got one with a judo throw while Rachel grabbed the blonde man in a choke hold with her strong swimmer's muscles. Chloe ran up and freed Eleanor. One assailant was out cold, but the blonde was only acting. The girls ran out, Katie carrying Eleanor on her back. A shot rang out. Katie, Chloe and Eleanor continued.

Sherlock was walking through the back-streets near Baker Street when the shot was fired. He veered off the route he was taking. Seeing the man with the gun, he disarmed and disabled him easily. Good long-distance aim, bad at hand to hand. He realised he was looking at Sebastian Moran, the man he was after. Sherlock handcuffed him to a railing, deduced the direction of the bullet and set off.

At the flat they realised Rachel was missing. Chloe called her mobile, to hear it ring from the table. They called 999.

A tall man was walking towards Rachel. She tensed,but he raised his arms in a peace gesture and she went back to trying to stem the blood gushing from the bullet hole in her thigh. The stranger picked her up. At her protests, he replied in his calm, smooth baritone, "Please calm down. I am taking you to hospital. My name is Sherlock Holmes." A thrill ran down him at being able to finally use his own name again. She relaxed at the name.

"Oh. Ok then." Her relaxation at his name confused, but pleased Sherlock.

John was pacing outside the hospital room Rachel was in. The nurse told him a young man had brought her in. He smiled politely and promised himself he would thank him if- when Rachel was better. Not now. The nurse wittered on, John hardly concentrating until; "Oh! Here he is. Dr Watson, this is the man who brought Miss Hunter in. This is Sherlock Holmes."

Rachel rolled her eyes. These people were being stupid and slow and calling it protocol. She hated damn protocol. "I'm not bloody in bloody SHOCK! Just let me see visitors, damn it!"

"Just a sec miss, how many-"

"Four fingers and a thumb. DON'T. EVEN. BOTHER."

The attendant bloke sighed and patted the bed. "Alright. Visitors welcome." As he left, she remembered their slightly dramatic entrance.

Sherlock strode up to the front desk and the new student receptionist at A&E. "Good evening sir, how can I help you?"

"Shut up, there's a bullet in her leg." Rachel smiled cheekily from Sherlock's arms.

"He's right. There is." The receptionist fainted. "Sherlock, press the intercom won't you? Yeah, that one. Ok. Hi. I'm Rachel Hunter age 18 accompanied by Sherlock Holmes. There is a bullet hole in my thigh, one inch deep. Hand gun bullet. I am not in shock. Pressure has been applied to the wound and I am medically trained. Thanks!" Sherlock smiled and together they sat in the waiting room giggling while everyone in earshot went off their heads. Sherlock insisted on carrying her as far as possible and got someone to notify her flatmates and John. He was waiting in reception.

John froze until the nurse had left. "John." Oh, the memories, the pain, that voice... Then he refocussed on the sign on the door saying Patient R. Hunter. He spoke in a low monotone.

"No."

"John?" Pain, confusion. He had suffered too. Patient R. Hunter.

"No. Not now. Go back to being dead."

Silence. Then a small voice. "Why?"

"BECAUSE, Sherlock, Rachel needs me! Yeah, ok, so do you. But I love her. Don't think I don't love you, but only as a friend."

"And you love her as... more than a friend?"

"Yes. Trust me Sherlock, we are hashing this out later, and I will punch you. You have been warned. But when Rachel has recovered." John could sense Sherlock nod and leave.

When Rachel was bandaged up and ready to receive visitors ("Honestly, I was ready ages ago...") her three friends were first in. They seemed cautious, as if she might get worse if they stepped on the wrong bit of floor or spoke too loud and almost guilty about what had occurred. After reassurances and jokes however, they were soon back to themselves.

"You know what, I'm quite jealous of you." Chloe mused.

"You. Are jealous. I was shot!" Exclaimed Rachel. "Why the hell are you jealous?"

"Days off work." Pointed out Eleanor. "I get a week and crutches, you get a month. I was the kidnapped one!"

"Can't think of anything more dull. It'll be alright, but there's only so many Top Gear and Doctor Who reruns." Grumbled Rachel.

"That's not actually what I was on about." Revealed Chloe. "I mean, you just would be shot with "sexy detective" Sherlock Holmes hanging about, ready to take you, knight-in-shining-armour style to hospital."

"Oh, Chloe you old romantic. I'd go no-wound-no-Sherlock if I had the choice," grinned Katie. "Although, he is a looker..." The girls giggled.

When the Girls left, John came in. he looked caring, kind, worried, and sad, in a way Rachel had never seen him. Katie had tapped on a radio in the corner when they left. The voice of James Morrison flew from the speakers.

"Hey John."

"You alright?" It seemed as if his life depended on her answer, so she didn't kid around.

"Yeah. Stable. I'll be fine. You... don't look so good. Are you ok?"

John took a deep breath. "As long as you are ok, I am." Rachel looked a bit confused at this. And just a bit hopeful. "What I mean is... if there's love just feel it, if there's life we'll see it. This is no time to be alone, lone, yeah." John sang in time. He had a beautiful voice, made extra special as he was singing for her. To her.

"I wont let you go." they sang together. John thought Rachel's voice was better than anything else.

"I love you Rachel. Always have."

"I love you John. Always will."

The Nurse walked in to the end of "I won't let you go" and John's snores. They were sleeping hand in hand, John resting his head on Rachel's bed. Both had smiles like they'd conquered the world. Smiling, the nurse shut the door.