"YOU FUCKING GIT!" I yelled at Sherlock as I punched him in the nose. He leaned back and held his nose, staring at me with wide eyes as I seethed at him. He sat on the couch, just coming in. "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!" I continued, but as he slowly put his hand down his eyes narrowed. Oh, God… I know that look.
"You aren't angry." he murmured and I closed my eyes. I hated him and how he is always right. I was scared shitless. I was terrified I'd lost him forever… Again. He disappeared, saying he called a cab after he tried to think of who the killer was. Lestrade and the annoying forensics guy Anderson were at my house, scolding Sherlock for hiding the pink case. I came home from school around sixish, to find them all there. As he found out the pink lady's phone was with the killer and it had a tracker on it. Once Watson said the phone was here Holmes spaced out. After that he walked out, then left in a random taxi. After that John went after him as I stayed behind with Lestrade. Thirty painful minutes later and John calls me saying Holmes caught the Killer, who just happened to be the taxi driver. John said he had almost taken the poison that killed the others. I couldn't bear it if he died.
I finally just sighed and sat next to him. "I'm tired of all this…" I muttered. "I'm tried of being kept up late thinking your going to be gone the next morning." He wrapped his arms around me, He put his head on top of mine as I rested my head on his warm chest.
"I'm not going anywhere without you." He whispered, and it shocked me more deeply then I could ever imagine. It was his tone, at how painfully serious he was.
"Holmes-"
"What happened to your arm?" he asked as he pulled back only slightly, grabbing onto my left arm. I closed my eyes as he slowly pulled my sleeve up. I know what he say. The faded scars, the fresher scars and now new burns. "Perfect circles…" he murmured, tracing my skin lightly, his cool fingers soothing the throbbing pain. I opened my eyes to watch his fingers trace over every scar, every burn, on my arm. "Why?" He asked quietly, never stopping.
"You were wrong before." I said instead, slowly looking up into his burning brown eyes. "I don't self-mutilate." I muttered, looking back down as he continued to trace my scars.
"Why are you with that disgrace of a man?" He whispered, and I looked the complete other way. As I stood he laced his fingers with mine, pulling me to him and making me sit down again, this time closer to him. "I may not understand emotions like others, but I understand logic. I know how you work and you don't do emotions. That means there is a more logical reason for all of this and unless you tell me I'll find out on my own." he paused a second, letting it all sink in.
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. "Sherlock… Don't do this…" I whispered, but being as how that wasn't the answer he wanted, or a answer at all, he continued.
"You hate being weak, not being able to defend yourself. So, what reason is there to let yourself be tortured by this buffoon?"
"Sherlock…" I closed my eyes. Rage and pain and sorrow swelled me up and I was about to lose control.
"You deserve so much better."
That was it. That was the last straw. "Or really now?" I snapped, turning so I faced him on the couch. "I deserve better? Since when?" I barked, as he just looked down at me with a odd look. "I've never had a real family, I've been in gangs and shot at, I've been forced back into time to be tortured and heart broken. I've been hunted down, analyzed and used for my power and you say I deserve more?" I stood and walked to the kitchen, staring out the window above the sink. In the silence the doorbell rang out and I sighed. I heard Holmes go and get it, but no talking, then the door shut and he walked into the kitchen.
"It's addressed for us." I looked at him over my shoulder, both of us confused, then to the paper, eyes narrowed.
"Just what I needed. Another unexplained thing." I muttered and took the letter out of his hand, now facing him as I opened it.
I grow impatient.
4451 Skyridge
Be sure Holmes and yourself are alone
Tomorrow, 2:00 sharp or I blow a town up.
Both Holmes and I stared at it, eyes wide. "What do you think it's about?" I asked him, last confrontation forgotten as this new riddle fiddled with our minds.
"I'm not sure, but I'm guess we'll find out tomorrow…" He muttered, glancing down at me. I didn't notice we were side by side until that moment and I looked away. I didn't trust my body, nor my actions. The lust I had for him was far too much, and even with the slightest skin contact I knew I would lose it.
"You better be here and ready, 'cause if you're the cause of a towns destruction I'll kill you myself." I promised and he just looked down at me.
"I'm sure I'd much rather do the task myself." He murmured, walking away. I stared at him until he was out of site, eyes wide. Maybe, he really did care more then he let on…
