"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY CAR?" I yelled, gawking at what was left of it. Someone had taken it apart.

"Looks like-" I held my hand up, not wanting to deal with Holmes. We made it back to good ol' 221B two days ago, and as of right now, John's at work, leaving me with him. We were going to go to a restaurant for dinner, but then…

"Great. Now we have to take a cab." I muttered and he smiled brightly. Douche. Just because he didn't like my car doesn't mean he can be an ass to it. He hailed and we got in, the cab driving off to whatever place Holmes picked. "Don't you think it's weird that Moriarty hasn't shown his face?" I asked as I looked at him. As he turned his head to look at me, his eyes locked above my head. Before I could ask what was wrong, His eyes went wide and he pushed me down, his body on top of mine. Before I could yell at him, the windows shattered and I screamed, clutching onto his jacket. The cab swerved, then a truck collided on Sherlock's side, the cab flipping and rolling.

I opened my eyes, everything hazy and muffled. I heard crackling and metal moving around. Then lots of shouting. I was soon being pulled backwards, through the open window and off to the side, me seeing the cab on it's back, a fire coming towards it. There was a purple, unmarked van that was 30 feet away, the front of it completely torn off.

"Lara? Lara can you here me?" A deep voice asked, then Holmes papered at my side, hovering above me as his blue eyes actually held worry. I was phasing in and out, only catching bits of what was going on after that. I remember seeing Holmes tie off my leg, but I didn't understand why. Then there were lots of people screaming. Next I was in Holmes's arms, him holding me bridal style as he hunched of me, running fast. Then we were both on the ground, me facedown.

I didn't understand anything… It was now dark, a orange and red lights flickering. I slowly came too, only to grunt in pain as I tried to move. There was a metal rod sticking through my leg, a large gash on my forehead oozed blood, and my already sprained arm is defiantly broken now. I looked around to see a giant ass car pile up, a good 12 cars where on fire, but the fire was spreading-fast. I put my head on my arm, closing my eyes as I tried to move. It wasn't until I looked up to see Holmes laying far too still before I could move. I used my only good arm and leg to slowly crawl to him. The pain was far too much to handle, but if it wasn't for him then I'd be dead. I have to try. I have to save him.

"Holmes…" I croaked, grabbing onto his arm and getting him from his side to his back. As I did so he coughed, opening his eyes. I sighed, smiling a bit in relief. "Thank God." I muttered and he sat up, staring at me.

"You shouldn't have moved. You've already lost well over a pint of blood." He said and I exhaled, feeling very faint.

"Yeah… For once I agree with you." I muttered, not meaning to lay my head on his thigh. I thought it was the pavement, but if he cared he didn't say anything. In fact he ran his hand up and down my back- awkwardly most likely but it felt so good I could honestly care less. Before I knew it, and actually without consent, I was engulfed in black.

*Sherlock's POV*

I sat on the ER bed, staring blankly ahead as a nurse put 14 stitches on the left side of my ribs. I already had 4 stitches to my left palm, 16 on my back and 5 on my right thigh. The entire time I thought about what happened. That was no accident. At all. Sure, if it were just the truck that hit us I might be able to believe that, but before that I just had enough time to get both of us down when a sniper shot at us. I was only able to get the glimpse of the shine off the scope, and as we turned I saw the whole thing, but I couldn't see the person. They were shooting out of a dark window, making sure I wouldn't be able to see. Which means they were over prepared. And there is only one person who could have known that I would be able to spot a sniper….

"Moriarty."

*Normal POV*

I limped with John at my side, us going over to where Holmes sat, in though at they patched up his pale torso… With muscles and pale, smooth skin. I watched as he breathed in and out easily, the muscles moving over his ribs and chest easily.

I honestly don't think it's fair at how perfect he looks.

"Well don't you look brilliant." John said as we came up.

Holmes looked over at us, raising a single black brow. "I've had worse." he looked to me then. "And she's a good 78.32% more damaged then me."

I stuck my tongue out at him, then smiled. "Well, at least I get a cool cane!" I held up my new cane that John bought me a couple of hours ago. It was all black, with a metal skull top and on the bottom metal skulls and fire looked like they were climbing up it.

Holmes stared at it in disgust. "You are incapable of being low key, aren't you?" He asked as he looked back to me with cold, blue eyes.

"Why would I-"

"Because you were put under my protection!" He snapped, and both John and I stared at him, confused at his sudden emotion change. It's not the fact that he went from carefree to pissed- that's normal. But for the fact that he actually cares about my safety. I may have been drugged up, but from what I can remember John had to twist Holmes's arm just to take my case. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look. That 'car accident' wasn't a car accident." Both John and I stared at him, but he looked around, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'll explain la-"

"No!" I growled, and now they both looked at me. The nurse finished the last of the stitching and she left, going over to another patient who just came in, who was bleeding profusely from his chest. "I'm no fool Sherlock. I know how terrorists work. I knew what happened once I woke up. Now you need to tell me what you know." I whispered darkly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Dr. Watson: Please report to room 448." Someone over the intercom said. John sighed as Holmes and I kept staring each other down.

"I have to get back to work. You guys try and not kill each other." He said, but he didn't make any motion to tell him we were listening. Once he left, Holmes stood and I couldn't help but be a bit intimidated by him. Not only is he tall, but strong and smart. The most terrifying opponents are his breed, and he didn't exactly look like my friend at this point. He walked up to me slowly, and stopped only an inch away, me only coming up to his chest. As he glared down at me, I say his arm moved and I got ready for the worst. But to my surprise he just reached around me and pulled the only open curtain closed. But when his arm returned to his side he didn't move. My heart hammered in my chest as we just stared at each other, not with malice now, but with understanding.

"There was a sniper before the car crash. This was planned by someone who knows me very well and someone who wants you dead." He deadpanned.

I stared at him, whole body going numb. "The bastard told them where to find me…" I muttered, and he nodded. I closed my eyes and put my head down, my good hand that wasn't wrapped up in a cast and put in a sling slowly curled into a fist as rage filtered through me.

"Don't." He ordered, putting both hands on my shoulders making me stare at him in shock, being as he was bent down to eye level now. "We can't let him, or anyone else know that we know. If they know that we know then they'll tell him that we know what they are doing and the attacks will only progress." I tried to follow the beginning but it was all for not.

"Innocent people have died today all because of us, and your okay with just sitting and doing nothing?" I asked, more or less figured.

"Should I not be?" He asked, and I just sighed, looking away. Why must I keep diluting myself? He will never, ever change.