Chapter 20: A Love Undecided

Hours later, probably closer to ten o'clock, although I couldn't be sure, the door of my room opened, and a figure in a long coat appeared. He turned up the gas lamp to improve visibility conditions. Upon seeing him, I jumped up and cursed so profoundly that he winced.

"Holy mother of hell! Andrew Lynch! What in the name of goodness and sanity are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I was there when Doctor Hargrave passed the message along to Lestrade and insisted upon tagging along. Good work, by the way. Oh, and I really should teach you martial arts. With a knowledge of self-defense you might never have gotten yourself into this mess."

"Where are the others? How did you get in?"

"Searching the building for Ivanov and your sister. We got in by posing as guards. The man at the front door – daft type. He just assumed that we were new recruits of Moriarty's – let us right in."

Suddenly there were voices down the hallway and several men appeared, running towards the open door. Andrew swore softly and flung the door closed, bolting it and glancing around urgently.

"All right, you've been here longer than I. How do we get out of here? Think fast. They look stronger than the door."

I looked around hurriedly before realizing. I rushed over to the curtain and pulled it back. "Can you break through this?" I asked him.

He scanned the room for something to use and quickly picked up the chair which I had been tied to only the previous night. "Stand back," he advised, and as I stepped back he rammed the window at full speed. The glass shattered. Two of the chair legs broke off, but that was no matter. The men were pounding at the door, which was shaking and making ominous noises at the hinges. Andrew was right. It wouldn't hold long.

I looked at the broken window. Shards of glass still stuck up from the bottom edge. I didn't see how either of us would be able to get over it.

Andrew caught my gaze. "Do you trust me?" He asked urgently.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I said, do you trust me," he repeated, looking into my eyes with the most honest gaze I had ever known. And in that moment I felt something, and although I hesitated, I knew the answer was yes.

"Yes," I said breathlessly.

Andrew put his hands on my waist and lifted me up. "Tuck your legs in," he said, and I obeyed. He swung me over the dangerously sharp edges of the window and I landed safely on the other side, stumbling slightly, but still on my feet.

He took off his coat and laid it over the shards, using it as a cushion while he jumped over nimbly. As soon as we had both made it into the room where I had seen Ariana, the door gave way. "Go, go!" Shouted Andrew, and as the men fired several shots from their guns, we threw the door open and made our escape into a hallway, one which I had not seen before. We had a choice to go either left or right, and we looked from one to the other wildly.

"Which way?" Andrew asked me, gasping for breath.

"I don't know," I replied, somehow managing to speak through the white hot pain that was spreading through my chest cavity.

From the left, we heard more shouting voices, which proved to be the same men who had been on our tail before. "Let's go right," said Andrew.

And so he grabbed my arm and right we went. There were stairs, leading downwards, and at the bottom a door. A cold breeze seemed to seep from under it. Could it be? We were so close.

More shots were fired, and all of them missed. But then the door opened and another man appeared. He began shooting too. One of the shots sounded different. And Andrew fell to the ground in the midst of us both trying to duck.

Not caring whether or not I was shot, I immediately dropped to Andrew's side. Blood was pouring from a spot on his left shoulder.

"No, Andrew," I murmured, frozen in shock.

He blinked, grimacing at the pain, and grasped my hand. "Emily, I should tell you what I was going to in my father's office the other day," he said, his voice strained.

I shook my head, tears beginning to blur my vision. "No, Andrew, it can wait. Just hold on. Save your strength."

He grasped my hand tighter and my heart skipped a beat. "No, Emily, it can't wait. I-I love you."

Tears were rolling down my cheeks now. I didn't know what to do. After his words, Andrew cried out loudly and then went limp. His hand fell from my grasp and his head rolled to the side. No. No. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead.

"John!" I screamed. "John!" I looked up to see that the men who had been shooting at us were now running in the opposite direction, and I soon saw why. Lestrade and Patterson had run through the door, ready to shoot anyone who dared to oppose them. Lestrade took one look at Andrew's limp body on the ground and bolted back down the stairs. "Doctor!" he shouted out the door.

A second later John came running in. He immediately saw the reason he had been called and cursed, flying up the staircase two by two. He pushed me back, and although I wanted nothing more than to stay by Andrew's side, I was too much in shock to object.

John quickly felt Andrew's neck for a pulse and then ripped off his jacket, applying pressure to the bullet wound. "Lestrade," he called, "get Emily to the cab. Patterson, come help me move him."

Lestrade took my hand and assisted me in getting up, and I obediently followed him, although I had no idea what exactly was happening. Everything was very slow and disjointed in motion. Everyone's voices were echoing. My head hurt like hell and my chest felt as though it were on fire.

I felt the cold night air hit my face, although I could barely see, and had no choice but to allow Lestrade to guide me to wherever it was we were going. Home. Home would be nice. I had a longing for Thorndon Hall again. Or was my home in Baker Street? I wasn't sure. I didn't feel sure of anything, in fact. But I did somehow know that my sister was not outside waiting for me. I saw a man with dark hair who was slightly balding, whom I dimly recognized as Ivanov from the dinner table. Ariana was not there.

I shakily turned to Lestrade. "Where's Ariana?" I asked him. My voice sounded slightly slurred and distorted to my ears, and I wasn't quite sure if what I was saying had at all corresponded to my thoughts.

Before Lestrade could answer, Holmes came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. "We searched the whole building. Moriarty and your sister were both gone. All that were left are a few air guns, which are being collected as we speak. I am sorry, Emily."

I didn't register what he was saying. The pain in my head and my chest was intensifying, and everything became even more disjointed. I vaguely tasted a kind of warm, metallic substance in my mouth and throat. I thought I opened my mouth but no air was moving in or out. Everything slowly went dim and hazy and then black altogether.

I woke up in what I recognized after a moment as my own bed. The curtains were closed but I could still see the light of day shining through them. I looked around me blearily, feeling far too groggy and sore to do anything but blink as my surroundings came into focus. John was sitting in my desk chair, which he had pulled over by my bed, probably to keep watch. Wait. Watch over what? What was I doing in my bed? The last thing I remembered we had been outside the building in which Moriarty had been keeping me.

I tried to pull myself up into a sitting position, and was immediately greeted by a burning sensation and a great deal of dizziness. John urgently stood up and pushed me back down onto the bed with his left hand while taking ahold of my wrist with his right. He timed my pulse against his pocket watch for a minute and then let my wrist fall back to my side. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"It hurts," I said, taking a deep breath and wincing.

"Well, that means that you're alive, which at present is the best we could hope for."

"What happened?" I asked, relaxing my shoulders against the soft pillows behind them and raising a hand to massage my throbbing forehead.

"Does your head hurt?" John asked.

I nodded, the movement making the pain even worse.

"When the sedatives completely wear off I'll give you something for the pain," he told me.

"You still haven't answered me. What happened?"

"One of your broken ribs punctured your right lung," he explained. "You collapsed on the street as Patterson and I were carrying Andrew out. I had no choice but to perform surgery right there or else you'd have been too far gone."

I listened to his narrative, but then a thought struck me and a lump formed in my throat. "Andrew. Where is he? Is he – oh, my God please tell me he's –"

John put up a hand to quiet me. "Andrew is fine, Emily. He's going to live. He lost a lot of blood, so he's quite weak, but he's just fine. When I left him less than an hour ago to come sit with you, he was awake."

"I'm going to see him," I said, and started to sit up again.

Once again, I was firmly pushed back down. "You suffered a punctured lung and near death only last night. You aren't going anywhere."

I laid back again and groaned. "How long are you going to force me to stay in bed?" I inquired.

"At least another day or two," he said firmly.

"What about Andrew? Can he come visit me?" I asked.

"If he's strong enough to rise without fainting by later today, yes."

"Hand me Macbeth from my bookshelf," I said.

John raised his eyebrows.

I sighed. "Please?"

He fetched the requested book and handed it to me, and I happily opened it and began to read. A few minutes later, John left me in peace with my Shakespeare, and I put the book down. Of course I couldn't focus on reading at present. My mind was buzzing with what Andrew had said to me right before falling unconscious. What exactly did it mean? And more importantly, did I feel the same way?

Late in the afternoon, my thoughts had finally quieted enough for me to read, and I was immersed in the macabre Elizabethan play when I heard a soft knock on the frame of my door. I looked over and saw Andrew standing there, his left shoulder bandaged and his arm in a sling. "How are you feeling?" I asked, resisting the urge to spill out the things I had been thinking about all afternoon to him right away.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said. "I was told about the events after I sustained my injury last night."

I shrugged, setting my book on my nightstand. "John said I'll live," I said in reply.

Andrew nodded and sat down gingerly on the edge of my bed. "As will I," he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could John walked in.

"Mr. Lynch, your father telegraphed and requested your immediate presence at his office."

Andrew smiled and stood, his smile quickly becoming a grimace. "Duty calls," he said, tipping an imaginary hat to me. "I expect it won't be too much longer before you see me again, Miss Emily Watson."

And as he left the room, I turned my face away from John and smiled to myself. Love, affection, and the whole lot wasn't a concept that I was well acquainted with. But I certainly didn't mind an introduction.