*Hello lovelies! It looks like that's another chapter down. Now, how on earth could we top a chapter such as this? I'm sure I can think of a few things. Let me know what you all think in the comments and I will see you all in the next chapter!*


Chapter 12: New Beginnings

"John? John, is she alright?"

"She's fine," John said dully, not looking up at me as he bounced Sheryl up and down. "It was a sedative that they gave her. No diseases or anything like that."

"Well that's good. Sheryl's alright then." I looked up at Molly. "Any ideas?"

"None. And no one can help. It even says on the envelope that it's for your eyes only."

I frowned, glancing over at Sherlock as he looked over Sheryl's bloodwork. "I can't even open it around any of you?"

"Probably not. I wouldn't risk it. Come John, let's get back to Baker Street. It will be much safer for you both there." Sherlock tugged at his friend's arm. "John?"

"I'll stay here. You two go. Would you mind giving me a gun so that I might protect myself?"

I shuddered when John's glazed eyes met mine. I took Sheryl from him, handing her to Sherlock. "Molly, Sherlock. Would you mind giving John and I a moment?" Sherlock stared at me incredulously. "This isn't something that you can deduce Sherlock. Go and wait outside."

Molly gently grabbed Sherlock's arm, leading him outside of the morgue. I watched John standing there, eyes far away, not reacting in any manner as the two other adults left the room with his child. I began to approach him when he held up a hand.

"I know what you're trying to do Delilah. I know that you are concerned about my well-being. But let's both face it, you aren't going to be able to solve this without Sherlock's help and my wife is going to die. Why would I choose to stay here if that's going to be the case? I mean, we're in the morgue already anyway!"

I could hear the hysterical bite to John's voice and I knew that I had to tread carefully. "John, listen to me. You're in shock and you're blaming yourself for something that no one could prevent. I promise you that I will get your wife back to you in one piece."

"No you won't. The only one that can is Sherlock and you're not him!" John snapped, slamming his fist down into the table. "No matter how much he trains you and teaches you, you'll never be him. You're not good enough for this Delilah!"

I winced at John's words, but met his wild gaze all the same. "John, would you truly leave your child an orphan? Mary wouldn't want that. Mary would at least want her child's father in her life. Who would take Sheryl? Sherlock and I? No, she needs her good and noble soldier father who will teach her right from wrong and tell her all about her mother and what a beautiful and intelligent woman she was."

I took another two steps towards John. "You can't let the darkness win John. If you do then they win. And good cannot lose to evil. Please John. Snap out of it long enough so that we can focus on the case instead of worrying about whether you're going to kill yourself or not. Please. Sherlock and I love you. Sheryl loves you. And Mary loves you. She's not dead, only captured. I swear on the last breath in my body, I will get your wife back."

John's gaze met mine and I could see a flicker of life come back. "That's it John. That's it. Come back to me, please. For Sheryl and Mary."

I watched as the tears began to flow. I reached out for him and he closed the gap, throwing himself into my arms. I held him tight, doing my best to sooth him. He sobbed, burying his face into my shoulder.

"It's all my f-fault. I should have been there to protect them. Mary s-said that morning that she was worried that she was being f-f-followed, but I told her that she was worried for nothing, th-that we…we were safe. Oh God if she dies…if she dies it's my f-fault!"

"She's not going to die. I made you a promise John and I intend to keep it. I will bring your wife back to you. It's alright. I promise you, it's alright. We will get her back. We will. Come on, let's go and meet Sherlock out at the cab, get you back to Baker Street."

I managed to help John stumble out of the morgue and out onto the street where I found Sherlock sitting in a cab, bouncing Sheryl on his lap. I opened the door, easing John inside before sliding in. It was a bit cramped in the back, but the ride didn't take long. I was the first one out of the cab and helping John. He was still shaking and crying, but he seemed to have a bit of his composure back.

Sherlock carried Sheryl up the stairs and I walked behind John, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't try to do anything rash. We entered the flat and I held out my hand to John. He stared at it, confused.

"Hand me the note John."

From inside the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out an envelope, my name scrawled across the front in handwriting that I didn't recognize. Underneath of my name it said, 'For Delilah's eyes only! :)'

I sneered at the smiley face before opening the envelope. I glanced inside, frowning.

"What? What is it? What's in there?"

"It's…it's letters."

"It's what?" John asked, voice soft.

"Let me see," Sherlock snapped, trying to snatch the envelope from my hands while holding the baby.

As he went to reach for it, all our phones went off at one time. I reached for my phone, keeping the envelope out of Sherlock's reach. I unlocked it quickly, typing in the pass code. I gasped at the image on the screen, nearly dropping the phone and the envelopes contents onto the floor. John let out a moan of pain, sinking to his knees.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

I showed Sherlock the picture, watching as he frowned deeply. "Good God."

It was a photo of Mary, bound and gagged, tears in her eyes, staring up at the camera pleadingly. My sister was kneeling next to her, a wide grin on her face, eyes excited, giving a thumb's up. Underneath the photo read a caption that said, 'No cheating Delilah dear. You have until midnight tonight to solve our puzzle. And if you don't, then I guess that little Sheryl will be without a mother.'

John began to sob once again and I took the baby from Sherlock. "Get him down to Mrs. Hudson and stay down there until I call you. I'll keep Sheryl up here with me."

"But what if that's what they want and they come up here for you."

"Then they'd better expect to find out what a bullet tastes like. If it comes down to them or myself and Sheryl, it will be them. I'm done playing games. This ends now."

Sherlock nodded. "Be careful love."

"I will. You watch after John for me please. Don't let him go anywhere by himself."

"I know Lila. He's suicidal. I'm a sociopath, not completely ignorant."

I smiled gently, touching Sherlock's cheek. "I know darling. I have to remind you. Go and get him downstairs and do your best to comfort him. Or at least have Mrs. Hudson do it."

Sherlock took John downstairs despite his protests and I closed the door to the flat. I pulled out Sheryl's small play mat that Sherlock and I had bought her, placing her on that to play before I scattered all of the ripped bits of magazine out from the envelope. I quickly began to pick out the words, putting them all in one section, leaving the letters in another pile.

The words that they'd given me were Mary, midnight, and new beginning. Everything else was just chopped up letters and I grit my teeth, knowing that I didn't have much time seeing as it was already six thirty in the evening. I counted out the letters quickly, noting that there were twenty-one in total. The letters read H-MA-R-O-I-N-N-U-M-UM-U-SE-D-G-AR-S-N-E. I stared down at them, running through all possible word choices that were available to me. I began to pace.

"New beginning? What could that possibly mean? If it's one of their thought processes, it could mean a million and one things." I ran a hand through my short hair, looking down at Sheryl cooing at her toys, reaching up to pull them down towards her and chew on them. "We'll have to figure it out won't we Sherly? Can't have you lose your mother and I can't always rely on Sherlock. So think!"

I began to rearrange the letters into different orders, but nothing I could come up with was suitable or made any sense whatsoever. Before I knew it, two hours had gone by. I began to feel sick to my stomach, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I looked at Sheryl who had fallen asleep on her play mat. I sat down, staring at the sleeping babe, trying to get my brain to work. I closed my eyes, going to my library.

"The answer has to be here somewhere," I muttered to myself, staring at the random letters on the table. "Think. Every single time that they've given you something to work through, the answer has been staring right in front of you. That's where Olivia has always failed. Letting things get too personal. So, this must be personal. But a new beginning? What could she be talking about?"

I went to the shelves, looking at the books that had been filling it up slowly but steadily. I pulled down anything that had to do with a new beginning. My birth, my first day of school, my first flat, first job. All signified a new chapter of my life. But I had a feeling that they wanted something more recent. I began to pull down the first day that I met Sherlock, our first kiss, moving in together. I laid them all out on the table and began to flip through them one by one.

I knew it had nothing to do with our childhood, so I tossed those books over my shoulder. I flipped through the moments of getting my first flat and job and neither of those things had anything that stuck out to me. I was growing frustrated. The deadline was approaching much too soon. Maybe John was right. Maybe this was something Sherlock needed to handle.

'Enough of that talk!' The voice in my head shouted. 'The answer is right in front of you. You said so yourself. Now think you idiot or else that little girl is going to lose her mother!'

My eyes scanned the room and that was when they fell on the book at the other end of the table, pristine white with gold filigree on the edges. It was still open as I was working on storing the memories from our wedding and honeymoon in there. I ran to the other side of the table, throwing it into the middle of it, watching as pictures from mine and Sherlock's wedding appeared.

I flew threw them, looking for one specific picture. I froze when I saw it, staring at it. I reached down, throwing the letters towards the picture, watching as they all fluttered into place, perfectly matching the word I was looking for.

"Horniman Museum Gardens," I muttered, my eyes opening to find the room still the same, the only thing changed the time on the clock. "I've got to prepare and I can't let them follow me."

I got up from the floor, looking at Sheryl. "I'm going to go and get your mother little one. Even if it kills me."

I sat in the cab quietly, running through every scenario in my head. I pulled my phone out of my pocket when I knew I was far enough away from Sherlock that he wouldn't be able to follow me in time.

Molly and Irene, please watch after Sherlock should something happen to me. I'm going to go and rescue Mary. After you receive this message, please call Sherlock and John and tell them Sheryl is asleep alone upstairs. Tell them that I will be fine and that Mary will be safe. I have no intentions of losing tonight. –DH

Delilah, you can't be serious! –MH

Delilah, Molly's right, you can't be serious about this. You can't go alone. –IA

Delilah? –IA

Delilah, answer us. Please don't do this. We're a team. We can take them down before Mary gets hurt. Come on. –IA

Lila I hope that what Molly and Irene have told me isn't true. If it is, I ask that you return to the flat. There is no sense in you going gallivanting on your own. Come home. –SH

I shut my phone off, knowing that if I could figure out the clue, so could Sherlock. I didn't need him immediately following me and ruining everything. We pulled up in front of the museum and I paid the driver quickly, thanking him for his expediency. He shrugged, driving off down the street.

It was deathly quiet and there was a chill in the air. I shivered, pulling my jumper a bit tighter around me. I walked slowly towards the front entrance and then thought better of it. While I knew that the alarm system wouldn't be rigged, they had more than likely planted a trap. I walked around to the side of the building, searching for an open window or door. I finally found a window that was unlocked and I hoisted myself up, landing catlike on the other side before creeping forward.

I padded down the hallways, doing my best to disguise the sound of my footsteps. I looked everywhere, trying to find any sign of Moriarty or Olivia. I rounded the corner towards the walrus and that's when I saw Mary sitting there in the moonlight by herself, struggling against her bonds. I moved quickly, keeping to the shadows.

I barely had time to react to the butt of the pistol whipping out from around the corner of another exhibit. I dodged right, but it grazed the side of my face and slammed down into my shoulder. I rolled away, turning to block a second blow, recognizing immediately that it was Olivia who was attacking me.

I blocked another blow, going for a chop to her throat. She blocked me in return, shoving me back and creating distance between us. She lashed out with a kick, but I ducked, grabbing behind her knee cap and twisting to the side. She twisted her body with me, catching me off guard and wrenching her leg free. Olivia struck out again and this time I couldn't block in time. She caught me with a solid left hook to my jaw. I staggered backwards, trying to regain my balance.

'Limping on the right side and she is refusing to use that arm. You damaged her leg with your wrench and you more than likely shot her in the right shoulder. Use those to your advantage!'

I nodded, ducking to the left as she swung again. I drove the palm of my hand into her shoulder, relishing in her cry of pain. She tried to step away, but I'd placed my leg behind hers and pulled forward, sweeping her off her feet. Catching her bad arm once more, I drove my knee into her spine, using her arm as leverage to drive her to her knees. She scrambled to get her footing, but it wasn't going to happen. I forced her to her stomach, using my knee to keep her hand pinned to the small of her back. I pulled the gun from the waistband of my jeans, pressing it to the back of her head.

I panted for air, glaring at the back of her head as she struggled underneath of me, giving whimpers of pain. My heart sank down to my toes when I heard the slow clap begin from next to Mary. I looked up and my dark brown eyes met the crazed one's of Jim Moriarty. The distinct sound of a pistol being cocked echoed through the empty museum and I looked to see Mary panicking, head pulled back, the barrel of a gun placed under her chin.

"It seems that we are at an impasse my dearest sister," Moriarty said softly. "Whatever shall we do about this?"

"You release Mary and I'll release your wife," I growled. "We trade and walk our separate ways. I've beaten you this time."

"Oh have you now? By what? Figuring out where we were keeping Mary before midnight? Disarming my wife and getting her on the ground?"

"Jim, please," Olivia sobbed.

"Shut UP!" Moriarty roared. "Can't you see I'm trying to do business with Mrs. Holmes?"

"Sorry darling," my sister whimpered. "I'm so sorry."

"Better. Now, where were we Mrs. Holmes? Oh right, captive exchange."

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "You cut Mary loose, release her to me, and I'll let Olivia go to you. We both walk out of here with what's important to us and we call it a day. Kill each other some other time."

"Why would I release your half of the bargain first Mrs. Holmes? How do I know that you'll fulfill your end?" Moriarty drove the gun deeper into Mary's neck and she let out a squeal of fear.

"Because, if you've been studying my husband and I as close as I think you have been, you will know that I never go back on my word." I drove my knee a little bit harder into Olivia's back, causing her to cry out. "What will it be James? A trade or a stalemate?"

Moriarty yawned dramatically before pulling the gun away from Mary. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll release your whatever-she-is and you release my wife."

My eyes never left Moriarty as he cut Mary free. My heart began to race and I watched as Mary sprinted towards me, skidding behind one of the displays. She motioned for me to join her but I shook my head, knowing that I had to complete my side of the bargain. I slowly stood up, easing pressure off Olivia's back and arm. I yanked her to her feet, shoving her towards Moriarty.

She stumbled into his arms and I watched as he struck her across the face. I grit my teeth, knowing that I could do nothing as this was the life that my sister had chosen. I continued to stare at him. "So we go our separate ways now?"

"Olivia, darling, are you alright?" The madman crooned to my sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek where he'd struck her before kissing her lips. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Moriarty, we have a deal. We are going our separate ways and-"

"Kill her dear," I heard Olivia murmur and before I could move, the shot rang out.

The world slowed down around me as I watched the muzzle flash. I was knocked backwards, the bullet hitting me square in the chest. My gun fell to the floor, going skidding across the tile, clattering noisily against the wood panel of a skull exhibit. I hit the ground hard, staring up at the ceiling dazed. I struggled to catch my breath, gasping for air. Mary's face appeared in my view and I tried to shove her away, tried to get her to go back behind her cover.

She began to check me over, frantically searching for a wound so that she could apply pressure. I could vaguely hear Moriarty and my sister laughing in the background.

"Where are you shot? Oh God Del, where are you shot? Tell me!" I watched as the tears began to flow from her eyes. "Del, please don't die. Please!"

I grabbed her hand and she leaned down close to me. I managed to choke out in a harsh whisper, "Vest. Pretend."

Her eyes went wide, but she immediately understood my meaning. She pressed down hard on the left side of my chest, trying to make it look as if she were stopping bleeding. "Delilah, don't die on me. Please, stay with me. Come on Del, stay with me."

"Oh look, what a touching reunion! The detective and the doctor here just in time to see the women that they love die!"

"Mary, oh my God," I heard John murmur. "Get away from Delilah, there's nothing you can do to save her."

"I can't John! She's our friend!" Mary fake sobbed. "I'm not leaving her!"

"Olivia, dear, go and bring the car around front so that we can leave. I'll keep the gun." When she didn't move he struck her again. "I said go you foolish woman."

My sister left the room quickly and I was left to stare up at the ceiling, forcing myself to keep my breathing irregular as though I were struggling for breath.

"How sweet that you two would show up like moronic knights in shining armor trying to save their damsels in distress. Too bad for you that they will both die." Moriarty began to walk forward and I could see through the corner of my eye that he was coming on the left side. "Mary, be a dear and go stand over there while I finish things with Delilah. I'd like to put the poor thing out of her misery if you don't mind."

Mary didn't move and continued sobbing as Moriarty approached. He kicked her square in the ribcage, knocking her sideways and causing her to gasp for air next to me. "Should have listened to me darling. It saves you some trouble in the end. Now. Where were we?"

"You were going to tell us how you survived a bullet to your brain," Sherlock said icily. "I mean, that's part of what you want to brag about, correct? How you shot yourself in the head and made everyone in London, including myself, believe that you were dead?"

I looked up at Moriarty to see him grinning from ear to ear. He glanced down at me. "Do you think we should tell him Delilah dear? Are you comfortable on the floor drowning in your own fluids?" I pretended to try and choke out an answer. "Was that a yes? Well then, I wouldn't want to keep the world's most famous consulting detective in the dark."

"You see Sherlock, you aren't the only one who has a wife that is a fantastic shot. My Olivia is as good a marksman- markswoman?- marksperson as anyone I've ever seen. And love can make you do very funny things. It's amazing what a small package of corn starch, water, and red and black food coloring can do, don't you think?"

"You're saying that you put a packet on the back of your head?"

"More like a packet on the back of my neck, but who's nitpicking?" Moriarty's grin grew wider as he continued to stare at Sherlock. "You see, I told Olivia to take the shot and not miss. The phone was set up on a timer so that when I put the gun in my mouth, it would go off as Olivia took the shot. You've only seen a handful of people killed in front of you Sherlock, so I wouldn't expect you in your state of shock to recognize that I hadn't truly killed myself. Went unblinking and held my breath for about a half a minute, maybe more until you turned your back and then it was smooth sailing from there."

"I'm impressed," Sherlock said. "But I'll be more impressed how you survive this time."

"Oh, I intend on living through this encounter and continuing my hunt for you. Delilah is only the beginning of the pain that I will deliver to you Sherlock." He placed the heel of his foot in the center of my chest, pressing down. "Now, watch as I-"

Before Moriarty could complete his sentence, I was reaching up, grabbing his foot in my hands and wrenching as hard as I could to the left. I heard a sickening crunch and Moriarty let out a scream of agony. He tried to bring the gun up to fire, but I was already there, catching his arm and forcing him to release the gun. I caught it in my hands, kicking him backwards.

He looked up at me, eyes wide with surprise and pain. He managed a small smile before saying, "You wouldn't kill me, would you sister dear?"

I smiled back at him, resting my finger on the trigger. "Why don't you just die?"

I squeezed it over and over, watching as he flew backwards. The world slowed down once again and I watched as every single bullet hit their mark in a vital part of his body. I saved one bullet in the chamber of the revolver, approaching Moriarty's prone form. He looked up at me, grinning wildly from ear to ear, teeth red with his blood.

"Kill…me…" he choked out.

"My pleasure."

A shrill scream came from my left and Olivia came flying out of nowhere, slamming into me. We both tumbled to the floor, the gun going off, not hitting its mark the way I'd wanted it to. Her fists pummeled into me and I did my best to block her. Her knees dug into my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. She clawed at my eyes, shrieking with rage as she tried to blind me. I drove my knee up into whatever I could connect with, but it did nothing.

I watched as she went flying, John having tackled into her to knock her off of me. Mary and John were restraining her and I shot to my feet, sprinting headlong towards her to attack her. But someone caught me around the waist and I felt the familiar embrace of Sherlock. I pounded my fists into his chest, trying to force him to let me go.

"Let me at her! God damn it let me go Sherlock! I have to destroy them. I…I have…have to…" I began to shake and tremble all over and I was crumpling in Sherlock's arms. "What have I done? Sherlock, what have I done? What have I done?"

I heard the wail of sirens from far off and soon the windows were filled with the flashing blue lights of police units. Sherlock let me go once I'd calmed down a bit and I'd gone straight to Mary, giving her a large hug.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, holding her face in my hands. "Mary, are you okay?"

"Besides nearly being killed and getting abducted? Perfectly fine. Normal day in the Holmes-Watson households, right?" She pulled me in for a hug, holding me tight. "How are you not dead?"

"Remember when we went and rescued Scotland Yard? We got bullet proof vests?" Mary's eyes lit up with knowing. "I may not have returned mine knowing that it could potentially help us."

Mary and I both laughed through our tears and we helped each other out of the museum towards the ambulances as Sherlock, John, and Lestrade wrestled with Olivia. I helped Mary into the back of the ambulance first. She and the paramedics tried to convince me to get in the back with them, but I told them that I was fine. Mary raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it.

"Do you think I could have a couple of alcohol swabs to clean the blood from my face?"

The paramedic handed me a packet of them and I began to clean my face slowly, wincing at the pain in my jaw and cheekbone. I knew I was going to look like a mess, but it was worth it at the end of the day. I watched as four officers, John, and Sherlock all dragged Olivia out of the museum kicking and screaming. When our eyes locked across the parking lot, she began to fight doubly hard, shrieking that she would get her revenge against me and take everything that I ever loved from me.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "You can try it dearest sister, but you're going to have a hard time escaping prison, especially with your husband dead."

Next came the body bag containing Moriarty's body. I stopped the two paramedics wheeling it out. "Are you certain that he's dead?"

"Yes miss. There's no way that he'd survive so many shots to the chest. Whoever killed him was a hell of a shot. I've never seen such a tight grouping. He definitely suffered before he was killed."

"Good," I muttered under my breath."

"What was that miss?"

"I said good work gentlemen. Have a good night."

"You too." The man pushing the head of the stretcher looked at me curiously. "You might want to get that head wound looked at miss. It's swelling up something fierce."

"I will. Thank you."

But I had no intention of getting it looked at by a complete stranger. I would wait until John was available to look at it. Right then I wanted to get home and get a hot bath. I hated having the stench of blood and fear on my skin. I began to walk home, looking up at the sky as it began to rain. I didn't mind it though. I felt like it was washing away the troubles, pain, and guilt that I'd carried with me the past few years.

I began to cry, letting the rain hide my tears. I couldn't help but feel so torn. On the one hand I'd killed a man, but on the other hand, he'd needed to be put down and rendered unable to wreak havoc on my family. I watched out of the corner of my eye as a cab pulled up beside me.

"Do you really think that I'm going to let you walk home in a downpour?" Sherlock asked, leaning out of the window. "Get in darling."

"Leave me be Sherlock. I want to be alone with my thoughts."

"That's not going to happen Lila. I'll be quiet and allow you to think on the ride to Baker Street, but you are not walking all the way back there being as wounded as you are."

I sighed. "Fine. But you have to promise to be quiet."

"Of course." He opened the door before scooting over to give me room. "Now get in because I'm not asking you again."

I slid in next to him, resting my aching head against the glass of the cab. I watched as London slipped by us, a blur of cars, people, and lights. Sherlock took my hand, but didn't say a single word as I'd requested of him. As we drew closer to 221B, I began to tremble and shake. Was it truly over? Were Sherlock and I finally free to live our lives without fear of being killed or having our loved ones violently snatched away from us?

I staggered out of the cab, Sherlock following close behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I somehow stumbled towards the door, pushing against it to get it open. My vision was blurring, my breath hitching in my chest. Vaguely I could hear Sheryl cooing from Mrs. Hudson's flat. Sherlock helped me up the stairs and he opened the door for me to our flat. I took about two steps in before my legs gave out and I turned into a sobbing mess.

Sherlock fell to the floor with me, pulling me close against him, rocking me in his arms. I gripped the front of his coat tight, burying my face into his shoulder, sobbing violently. Strings of spit and snot intertwined with one another, dripping to the carpet as I let out a silent scream, unable to even get enough air to make a sound. I gasped and then the sound came. It was a low keening wail and I tried to stifle it, but found that no matter what I did, I couldn't quiet it down.

Sherlock never wavered and never let me go. Instead he let me wail, holding me tight against him. My sobs slowed down into hitching breaths and even those quieted down. I curled up in Sherlock's arms in the middle of our living room, my arms wrapped around his waist, terrified to let go of him, convinced that if I did I would completely fall apart and collapse into a million pieces.

The door downstairs open and I heard Mary and John talking to Mrs. Hudson downstairs. Sherlock helped me to my feet and put me on the couch before going to poke his head out the door.

"John, could you come up here for a moment please? I'm in need of a doctor's assistance."

He mumbled something to Mary, who mumbled something in return. I heard John's feet coming up the steps and he walked in, a look of seriousness on his face. "What's the matter? What's…oh Jesus Del. Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

"I think it looks worse than it actually is. How's Mary?"

"Fine. Bruised ribs. She'll be getting x-rays in the morning at the clinic. You on the other hand need to go to the hospital."

I shook my head slowly. "No. No hospitals. I don't want a bunch of strangers poking and prodding me right now. I'm barely holding it together as is."

"Alright. Well, would you like Sherlock to be in here while I examine you or-?"

"No, I don't want him in here. You and me doctor. That's it."

John looked at Sherlock. "I guess that means you should go downstairs and see Sheryl and Mary."

"Lila, are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive."

Sherlock nodded, walking out of the door to our flat. "Alright then. If you're positive, I'll be downstairs until you two are finished."

With that, he closed the door behind him and I let out a shaky breath, falling back onto the couch. "I didn't want him to see exactly how hurt I am."

"And exactly how hurt are you?"

I slowly stripped out of my jumper, revealing the bullet proof vest underneath. I winced at the pain in my chest as I went to undo it, letting it fall to the floor to reveal the blossoming bruises I had underneath. John hissed as he stared at the one in the center of my chest.

"Can you breathe alright?"

"It hurts," I admitted as he grabbed his spare stethoscope from the drawer. "I can't say that getting shot in the chest is a pleasant experience, even with the vest on."

He pressed the stethoscope to my chest. "Breathe deep for me Del."

I did as he asked, wincing as my ribcage expanded. I let out the air in a hiss, trying to breathe through the pain. He had me repeat this process three more times before he took the stethoscope off, seemingly satisfied with the results.

"Any other pain anywhere?"

"My head, my cheekbone, and my jaw."

John reached up to all of them, gently pressing them. He frowned when I flinched away from his hand as he brushed his fingers against my cheekbone. "That hurts?"

"Aye, a bit."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Between a four and a five," I replied, doing my best to try not to wince. "How bad is it do you think?"

"Well, let me run a couple more tests and I'll be able to tell you. Stand up for me please." I did as he asked. "Now stand on one foot with your other out in front of you."

I stood on one foot, but struggled to keep my balance. I staggered to the right and John caught me around the waist. "Can you tell me what day it is Del?"

"Erm…I think it's Monday?"

John frowned. "Go ahead and sit down. And put your jumper on."

I did as he asked, hissing again at the pain in my chest. "So, what's the diagnosis doctor?"

"Mild concussion, bruised sternum, broken cheek bone, and multiple other small cuts and bruises. It could have been worse though."

"Yes, it could have." I stared out the window at the rain pouring down outside. "John, do you think it's over? That we can all have normal lives like we're supposed to?"

John chuckled. "Do you really think that there's such a thing as a normal life being around Sherlock?"

I gave him a very small grin. "You're right. There's no such thing as normal when Sherlock's around."

"Listen…Del…thank you."

"For what?"

"For preventing me from doing something stupid earlier. I know…I know that what I said was very angry and horrible and…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cruel. You have to understand that…that I…." He looked down at the floor and I could tell that he was fighting tears.

"It's alright John. Mary is your life and that's the mother of your daughter. I don't hold anything you said in a moment of grief against you. I'm glad that you didn't manage to get your hands on a gun. I have no doubt that you would have pulled the trigger and ended it without seeing Mary survive."

"You know…you're as brilliant as Sherlock, if not more so."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that John? Sherlock is ten times smarter than I am."

"Book smart, yes. He can learn anything at a glance. But you, you know people. You know how they act, how they function, and what they need at any given moment. You're more common sense and street smart. That is ten times more powerful than any super computer brain." John sat down next to me on the couch. "You and Sherlock balance one another. I only hope that he sees how lucky he is to have you."

I nodded slowly. "Thank you John. You and Mary need to get home."

"Will you be alright?"

"Aye, I'll be fine. I was going to take one of my sleeping pills before bed, but if you say that I have a concussion, I think it would be a good idea for me to go to sleep naturally. Do you want to tell Sherlock your official diagnosis or should I?"

"I think I should tell him as I know the proper treatments for the ailments. Not much we can do for a broken cheek bone and bruised sternum, but the concussion he can at least check on you every couple of hours, make sure that your brain doesn't bleed and you don't slip into a coma." John stood up from the couch, looking down at me. "I'll bring you some pain medication tomorrow on my lunch break."

I nodded. "That would be fantastic. I'm still running on adrenaline I think, so I'm pretty sure that the pain will get worse as the night goes on."

I got up from the couch, grabbing John's arm as he walked towards the door. "John?"

"Yes Del?"

"I'm glad I could keep my promise to you."

John smiled, pulling me in for a hug, squeezing me gently. "I'm glad you could too. And I'm glad that it didn't come down to you losing your life. I love you Del, as does Mary. We're both eternally grateful to you for risking your life like that."

John let go, opening the door and going downstairs. I hobbled my way down the hallway towards the bathroom. I gingerly managed to strip out of my jumper and bra. I was halfway through wiggling out of my jeans when I heard the bathroom door open and closed. I glanced over my shoulder at Sherlock.

"You know, it's impolite to stare at a woman when she's undressing."

"Let me see."

I sighed, leaning over into the tub to turn the water on. "I'm fine Sherlock."

"A cracked sternum is not fine. Let me see it Lila. I won't ask you again."

"It's only bruised Sherlock. Stop being so dramatic," I said as I turned to him, kicking out of my jeans. He stared at the bruise in the center of my chest, the frown deepening the longer he stared at it. "You're lucky it wasn't a higher caliber bullet."

"I looked up my old case file on my way over to the museum. I realized that they were more than likely still using thirty-eight caliber bullets and that the vest should save me."

"And if you'd been wrong?"

"Then we'd be having a completely different discussion now, wouldn't we? What does it matter? I'll heal like I normally do and then we'll be able to get back to solving cases."

"Lila…you scare me sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow at him before stepping into the shower. "I scare you? The man who has no feelings? The man who refuses to admit that anything bothers him?"

"Yes. You scare me because you are always so quick to sacrifice yourself and one of these days it's going to be the end of you. I don't want to see that happen. What if that bullet had been a higher caliber? Or the vest had failed?"

"Well, neither of those things happened, did they?"

"No, but what if they had?"

I peeked around the shower curtain, frowning at the worry in Sherlock's gaze. "If they had then we would have dealt with it then. Trust me, those bastards weren't going to kill me tonight. I was going to make sure of it. Please stop worrying."

Sherlock sighed. "You're so stubborn sometimes and it's frustrating."

"You are as well. I'd say we're about even on that front."

I heard the door to the bathroom open. "I'm going to let Scarlett out."

"Alright. I'll be finished in the shower shortly and then I'll be heading to bed."

"I'll see you there. You know that she doesn't like to go in the rain."

I rinsed my hair quickly before scrubbing in the conditioner. I grabbed the loofah hanging from the spigot of the tub and squirted some of my body wash onto it. I watched as the blood and dirt swirled down the drain. I couldn't help but think about the look on Moriarty's face as I'd approached him with the gun. How he'd looked so…happy that his life was ending. What if he'd known that he was insane and needed to be put down? Some part of me hoped that he had been intelligent enough to recognize how much of a danger he was to those around him. But knowing how selfish he could be, how deranged his behavior had been, I couldn't believe there was a single sane bone in that man's body.

I finished cleaning myself and stepped out of the shower, drying off quickly. I walked out of the bathroom, hanging up my towel on the corner of the door. I crawled into bed and laid there, listening for Sherlock to come back into the flat. I heard Scarlett's nails scraping on the steps as she ran up them and there were Sherlock's quiet footsteps. The light in the living room and kitchen cut off and I could hear him heading down the hallway towards our room.

I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep as he snapped at Scarlett to go to her bed. I knew he was stripping out of his clothes and I let out a hiss as his cold skin touched my warm skin. He pressed a kiss behind my ear, draping his arm over my waist.

"You're lucky that I love you."

"Am I now?"

"Aye. If you were any other person, I would have pushed you out of the bed at this point."

He chuckled. "You would? How cruel of you. What did I ever do to you?"

I slowly rolled over, wincing at the pain in my chest. "You climbed into bed and pressed your cold, naked body against my warm one."

"Oh, is that a crime now?"

"It is to me." I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Sherlock, I love you."

"I love you too Lila."

I rolled back over away from him, feeling his body instinctively curl around mine. I stared at the wall across from me, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Something's bothering you."

"Yes, something is bothering me."

"What is it?"

I hesitated, unsure of how I should proceed. Sherlock tightened his grip around my waist. "It has to do with you killing Moriarty, doesn't it?"

I nodded. "I thought it would be more fulfilling, killing him, using his own stupid line against him. But seeing the devastation on my sister's face, the absolute agony in her eyes…I don't think I could do it again if I had to. I know that she was brainwashed by him and that perhaps there's no chance for her to be rehabilitated, but she's still my baby sister. I'm supposed to care for her no matter what and I feel like I didn't. I only made her more miserable."

"Well, you won't ever have to see that devastation again love. Moriarty is dead. I made sure of it myself when they loaded him into the body bag."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose he is." I grew quiet, listening as Sherlock's breathing slowed and steadied. He pulled me closer to him and I curled up against him.

'I'm not concerned with what happens to Moriarty now. They can let his body rot. I care more about what happens to my sister and whether she'll be able to recover from her insanity or not.'

With that thought, I closed my eyes, settling into disturbing dreams of Olivia's crazed green eyes blazing as she slammed into me and Moriarty's cold black ones begging for me to kill him.