Broken Arrow - NGHFB

Some lyrics that basically gave me the idea for this story from this song:

Leave me in peace I'm all alone with my angel

She died in a dream

So I can live my life

But all the lies that they have told me

They make me wanna shiver

When I'm lost and I'm lonely

But that's not gonna easy my troubled mind

A fallen angel

With a broken arrow

She come for me and ease my troubled mind


"Hark, the Herald Angels sing, Glory to the newborn King," A church choir can be heard singing the Christmas carol from the Christmas special episode of 'Songs Of Praise', on the small television on the kitchen counter.

Ramona sits at a dining in the Doherty family home, in the kitchen, as her mother cleans away the last of the plates.

The room had a warm ambiance, and the table was littered with split Christmas crackers, and a gold tissue crown perches upon her platinum hair.

"I really wish you'd told me about this, Ciara." Freydis, her dog, is sat obediently by her side, as she absentmindedly strokes her head.

"I wanted to surprise you!" She's sitting next to her at the dining table, and a toddler is placed next to her, who in Ramona's opinion, asked way too many questions.

A man, an inch shorter than Sherlock, with red hair and a few freckles, grins back across at Ciara, on the other side of Ramona, who's sat at the head of the rectangular wooden table, her back to a window, which displayed large snowflakes ambling gently to the ground, with not a care in the world.

"Surprise is one thing, gaining a brother-in-law and becoming an auntie in one go is another thing." She remarks, looking over her laptop.

The toddler, a small boy, with shaggy dark blond hair and happy large chocolate eyes with adorable chubby cheeks, ran over to her, and jumped onto her lap, looking at the laptop screen placed on the table in front of her.

Ciara and her husband, Benjamin, had adopted him a few months ago, after finding out that Ciara was unable to have children. Admittedly, this fact had scared Ramona, in case it was shared. Although, it wasn't like she was ever going to have the opportunity to have a normal life, so why did it matter?

"Who's that?" He asks, his high pitched, rather cute voice made her smile, ruffling his hair, and looking into the webcam.

"That's Sherlock Holmes." She bounces him happily in her lap, and he lets out a giggle of delight.

"And who might you be?" The digital baritone only fueled her happiness.

Sherlock was sat in his own family's kitchen, wearing his usual suit and a very dark green shirt, presumably the most seasonal spirit that you could extract from the Consulting Detective, on a video call from the other side of the country.

"I'm Paddy Broadcroft!" He exclaims happily, turns over his small shoulder to Ramona, and then back to Sherlock. "Are you auntie Mona's husband?" Each room, in different corners of the country went totally silent, everyone turning to the detectives in question.

"Uh-" Ramona lets out an uneasy laugh. "That's a bit-" Another high pitched laugh.

"Not quite, Paddy." He replied, and Ramona blushed slightly, tensing her jaw in frustration that she couldn't control something as simple as her blood.

"Asking too many questions again, Padster?" Benjamin speaks up in a happy tone.

"No!" He protests, and Ciara laughs. Ramona took a moment, biting her lip.

Ciara genuinely seems happy. She seems whole, complete, and at peace with herself, something Ramona could only dream of. She was jealous of her twin, and certainly not for the first time, and definitely not for the last.

"Oh, dear God, it's only two o'clock. It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now." Mycroft's voice can be heard off screen, making Ramona chuckle, as Sherlock looks over the laptop.

"How can it only be two o'clock? I'm in agony." Ramona leans down into Paddy's ear.

"I think there are some presents left for you outside." His eyes and face light up, and the twins laugh in unison, as he runs out of the room, his parents following him. She watches for a second, almost getting emotional, before turning back to the screen.

Sherlock holds up the front page of The Guardian to the camera, which bears the headline 'Lord Smallwood suicide' and the straplines 'Shamed peer takes own life' and '63-year-old dies following letters scandal'.

"I know, Sherlock, I know." She sighs, as her mum hurries around the kitchen, bobbing around to the extremely christian music and humming along.

"Mikey, is this your laptop?" She hears Sherlock's mother off screen, and lets out a loud laugh at the endearment.

"On which depends the security of the free world, yes..." His tone turn sarcastic. "And you've got potatoes on it." Sherlock glances from the screen up to his brother, as if in warning.

"Well, you shouldn't leave it lying around if it's so important." Sherlock looks to the laptop secretively, in a slightly hushed tone.

"Why aren't you here again?" He asks her.

"Why are we doing this? We never do this." Mycrofts voice can be heard.

"I've got a family of my own, Sherlock." She lies, happily.

"We are here because we are a family and we are all very happy." His mum can be heard.

"I do too." Sherlock says.

"Am I happy too? I haven't checked." Mycroft replies.

"Unfortuanately." He mouths to her, making her crack up.

"Behave, Mike." She walks around the back of Sherlock.

"Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end."

Bill Wiggins walks over and holds out a glass of punch with pieces of fruit floating in it.

"Mrs 'olmes?" She looks round and takes the glass from him.

"Oh! Thank you, dear. Not absolutely sure why you're here."

"I invited him." Sherlock states.

"I'm his protégé, Mrs 'olmes. When 'e dies, I get all his stuff, an' 'is job." Mrs Holmes looks at him, a little startled.

"I've been replaced?" Ramona says jokingly, crossing her arms, but secretly actually quite irritated.

Paddy appears again, running back in the kitchen.

"I got a bike, auntie Mona!" she turns on her child face and chuckles happily as he jumps up and down in front of her.

"No." Sherlock tells her.

Mona, currently trying to tune into three different conversations, reaches over the laptop to take a mince pie from the middle of the table, to have her hand slapped away quickly.

"Don't be a gannit, Mona!" Her stern mother orders, in a heavy Irish accent. Ramona grinned mischievously, and turns back to the laptop.

"Lovely when you bring your friends round!" Mycroft's sarcasm makes her laugh, as Sherlock's mum makes an appearance behind her.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs Holmes!" She grins, as Sherlock turns around to see his mother looking at the screen, and smiling. Sherlock pulls a slightly embarrassed face.

"Hello dear!" Paddy jumps onto her lap again. "Oh, is that your niece?"

"Yeah." She says happily, putting a hand on the top of the boys head. "Hows things down your end?" She makes an exasperated face, opening her mouth to speak, before Paddy cuts in.

"Can I see your gun holes, Moany?" She looks down incredulously and in awkward shock, and Sherlock doesn't know whether to be amused or uncomfortable.

"Moany?!" He pouts.

"You don't like it?!" Paddy looks as if he's threatening to cry, and she rushes to make him happy again.

"No, er- I was surprised that you could come up with such a good name!" Sherlock watches as the boy's face lights up again, and Ramona realises she's been swindled by a too smart for their own good five year old, her eyes narrowing at the now grinning boy.

"I've raised a family of wind up merchants, I have." Her mum exclaims. "Somebody's hurt one of my girls-" Her usually stern face turns murderous.

"Mum..." Ramona says, with an embarrassed, uneasy laugh.

"I know exactly how you feel, Mrs Doherty." Ramona winces at the Mrs, as their mums start to converse. "Someone put a bullet in my boy's woman..." Sherlock's ears flush bright red, eyes widening, which was definitely the funniest thing she had ever seen.

"Mum!" He sounds like an embarrassed teenager, as his mum grins.

"For the record, I am not-" Ciara enters, looking at her with curious eyes and a raised eyebrow. Ramona swallows and smiles falsely. "Yep!" Everyone in her house looks away.

"Come here Pads, lets watch some Thomas, you're making a nuisance of yourself." Ciara says, and Paddy runs over to her quickly. Ramona closes her eyes in relief, letting out an exhale of exasperation.

"Ah. This was for Mary. I'll be back in a minute." Sherlock, who had folded his hands in front of his mouth, now lowers his left hand and looks at his watch, as Ramona checks her watch too.

I should set off.

Ramona looks into the camera earnestly for a second.

"I've gotta go, Sherlock." His mouth parts slightly.

"Where?"

"I'm meeting Hannah." She lied.

"Oh. Have a good Christmas, Mona Doherty." She grins.

"All my love to your family, the Watson's, and- er- The Wig." She laughs lightly, as he grins, chuckling.

"She could give it to me personally if you gave me 'er number." Sherlock glances over to his right.

"I'll leave it you in my will, with my job and possessions." She chuckles at the exchange, as he turns back to her, as she realises he was basically saying 'Over my dead body'. "You're back in London for New year." He says.

"Yep." She says, knowing that she wouldn't. He nods and smiles slightly. "See you then, Sherlock."

"See you later."

"Bye."

"Goodbye."

"Until next time."

"Inabit."

"Laters-"

"For god's sake, Sherlock! End the bloody call!" Mycrofts annoyed cry is heard. Ramona chuckles as Sherlock glares over the camera, before sending her a knowing look.

"Merry Christm-" He begins, and she ends the call abruptly, closing her eyes at what she was about to do.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock Holmes." She whispers, before getting up, shutting the laptop and getting something out of her black duffel bag, and walking over to her mum.

Ramona kisses the small woman's cheek, and she grins.

"I'm so proud of you both, Mona." Ramona's eyes widen, and tears threatening to burst out of her, She pulls her mum into an affectionate hug, before pulling back out again, hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

"I couldn't ask for a better mum. We're the product of the best upbringing you could give us, and I'm just as proud of you for being so strong."

She gestures to what she put on the kitchen counter, and her mum almost faints.

"Mona...!"

"That's for you. Because I love you, and I want you to be safe." On the kitchen counter was a cheque that amassed to seven hundred thousand pounds, addressed to her. "I already paid off your mortgage. That money's for a good retirement, and a downsize, maybe a better kennel."

Her mum looks up at her in disbelief, tears brimming in her still bright eyes.

"You're such a good girl-" Her voice is teary, and Ramona begins to fill up, too.

"Don't cry, cause I will, too." She says, with a shaky laugh. "I love you, mum."

"I love you too, more than anything in God's world." She kisses her mum on the forehead.

"I need to go, I'm on a tight schedule."

Ramona turns and crouches down to the dog, tongue lolling out of her open mouth and panting happily. She grins and gives her one last scratch in the place behind her ear, and turns to go.

On her way out, she passes through a living room, and meets Ciara, on her own, outside the door, about to go out into the snow.

"Your leaving?" She smiles to Ciara, an admittedly rare occurrence.

"Yeah, I've got some places to be." She pauses, looks down, and takes an envelope out of her pocket.

"What's this?" Ciara asks, as she's handed it.

"Merry Christmas." She grins. Opening it, she pulls out paper, and begins to read, her eyes widening and brimming. "You've got a family to look after, don't you?"

"Mona, you bloody idiot..." She smiles at her twin, looking into her own face. Inside the envelope was a cheque for a million pounds, along with car keys, and an admission to a private school.

"You should have everything we never had, Ci-" She's broken off by a tight bear hug.

"I never thought I'd say this again." Ramona's eyes begin to fill, a fist around her heart like a vice. "But I love you." Ramona breaks out into a sob. Why were goodbyes so hard?

"I-" Another sob, and a tear rolls down her face, even though she's grinning. "I love you too."

They pull back, with a sense of the british stiff upper lip, looking away awkwardly, and wiping their face in the same manner. Ramona clears her throat.

"Look after your boys." Ramona opens the door behind her, and they watch Benjamin and Paddy playing in the unbroken snow, with a few other children and parents, laughing loudly. "By god, they're gonna need you."

"How did you do this?" She looks back at her, slight confusion on her identical features.

"Hm? Oh, I had a few favours I called in. Nothing that matters."

"My sister made it in the big city, then." Ramona lets out a shaky laugh.

"Not quite the way I imagined, but..." She mutters to herself, looking down momentarily, and then looking back to her. "Buy a good house, send Paddy to that school, and try not to crash that ridiculously expensive car, yeah?" She nods, concern starting to wash over her doppelgangers face.

"Mona, where are you going?" Ramona sighs, deciding there was no point in lying.

"I'm gonna be out of town for a while... Do some sight seeing, get my life in order." Okay, maybe I'm lying. "You know what I'm like, I'll be fi-"

"I do know what you're like." Her eyes were serious and unwavering. "Don't do anything I wouldn't, okay?" She laughs, and begins walking down to the road, making footprints in the snow, Ciara hurrying after her.

"Car's that one, by the way." She gestures to a luxurious range rover, a brand new model in white.

Ciara lets out an excited scream, and then runs over to it, as Ramona continues walking towards her bike, under a cover to protect it from the snow, pulling it off with a flourish.

"See you later, Ciara."

"Bye, sis."

With this, Ramona revs the engine, and begins her journey to Appledore.


In a large sitting room where one entire long wall is made of glass and looks out to the grounds, Magnussen lowers his whiskey glass at the sound of footsteps from down a corridor.

Ramona emerges in front of him, dressed in white skinny jeans, a tucked in white silk white blouse and white shoes, with her trademark black leather jacket.

Magnussen nods to the men that had escorted her inside, causing them to turn and leave obediently. The Shark is sat on a curved white leather sofa, and he pats the seat next to him. She simply raises an eyebrow, shifts her weight onto her left leg, and crosses her arms.

"Care for a drink?" He raises his glass of whisky to her, and she shakes her head dismissively.

"Not good for working." Her voice surprisingly gave nothing away of her plans, and he shrugs, before drinking.

Ramona walks over, as confidently as she could muster, and sits a couple of feet away from him on the sofa, sure to keep her distance until the right time.

"So," She leans back, remaining calm, although her mind and pulse were racing. "What sort of blackmail do you want to engage me in?" Her tone was business-like and mature, no hint of her actual personality among her rehearsed lines.

"Blackmail?" He looks amused, setting his glass down. "Oh no, this is ownership." She smirks cruelly, turning to him with her eyes the colour of a deep ocean.

"No one owns me." She tells him, and he laughs slightly.

"That's what makes you so delicious." She almost turns up her nose in disgust, at the thoroughly revolting excuse of a human being. "The ownership of such an exotic creature, one so in demand..." He looks away, his eyes, hidden behind his spectacles, clouded with thought, before looking back to her. "It makes my heart race."

"I'm flattered," She studies her surroundings, subtlety looking for a weapon. The security men were back in the surveillance room, and that gave her around two minutes at least to kill him. At this point, she was picturing strangling him with her bare hands, and to her disgust, it didn't make her feel uneasy. "Really, I am. But I'm no exotic creature, and I'm not in demand."

At this, the sound of helicopter blades chopping the cold air can be heard in the distance. She turns to look, as Magnussen stays still, and confusion floods her. The black helicopter -which has the 'CAM' logo on both of it's side- flies down towards the house,and it land on the lush grass not far from the building. A security man walk towards the helicopter while another stands on the patio outside the house.

Ramona's eyes narrow, and then widen upon seeing the new arrivals.

"No." She gasps. Have they come to watch me kill him? Place bets?

Magnussen laughs.

"It appears we've been interrupted."

"Why are they here?" She watches, as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are led across the grass, by the same two security guards which had escorted her, only moments ago.

He takes a drink from his glass as his men escort Sherlock and John out of a glass lift and into the room. Sherlock's mouth parts in shock at the sight of her, stopping a couple of paces in front of the sofa, while John stands a little way behind and to one side of him, his eyes wide. Magnussen nods to his men and they turn and leave.

"I would offer you a drink but it's very rare and expensive." Ramona frowns and looks at him. The Shark takes a drink, and Sherlock turns, going to sit down on the other side of Magnussen, to his right.

He sighs with a contented sound and slaps his hands down on the white leather either side of him, putting a laptop down between himself and the other man, then crosses his legs and clasps his hands in his lap. He looks across to the other side of the room. Ramona bites her lip uneasily. It would have been easy to murder him, if only Sherlock hadn't come to spectate.

She recognises the laptop instantly, and figures out his plan in seconds. Was he really going to bribe Magnussen with the security of the western world, just for everyone's safety?

"Oh. It was you." Sherlock's tone is calm, and she follows his gaze.

Projected onto a glass wall opposite them, a video is playing of Sherlock and Mary's rescue of John and Ramona from the bonfire. The footage repeats on a continuous loop, and she swallows.

"Yes, of course." John glances over his shoulder and turns back, then does a double-take.

"Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr Holmes."

"Mm." John turns and walks towards the wall.

"The drugs thing I never believed for a moment."

"Anyway, you wouldn't care if it was exposed, would you?" Sherlock tilts his head, quirks his mouth and shrugs. "But look how you care about them."

In slow motion, Sherlock drags a limp Ramona from the fire, his face full of dread, fearing the worst. Her heart jumps at his expression.

"Your damsels in distress. In fact... Are those tears I see?" John turns around, understandably furious.

"You..." He walks closer. "Put me in a fire... For leverage?"

"Oh, I'd never let you burn, Doctor Watson." He sits up and puts his glass onto the clear glass table in front of him, then looks up at John again. "I had people standing by."

Sherlock looks thoughtful, as Magnussen stands up, and Ramona mirrors him.

"I'm not a murderer... unlike the women in your life." She looks down, and the boys look up at Magnussen with equally grim expressions.

Magnussen walks over towards the wall.

"Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson." Reaching the wall, he puts one finger on it at the side of the projected footage. There's a beep and as he slides his finger across the glass, the footage slides with it and disappears off to the side.

"For those who understand these things, Mona Doherty is the most dangerous woman in country, and Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well... apart from me." Ramona tightens her jaw. "They both have a mutual pressure point... The junkie detective, Sherlock." He walks back across to the sofa. "And one of Sherlock's pressure points is his best friend, John Watson. John Watson's pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson's wife... " He looks round to Sherlock. "I own Mycroft, and I own Mona." He sits down again. "They're what I'm getting for Christmas."

Even though the laptop is almost within his reach, he holds out his hand towards Sherlock. Without looking round, Sherlock shoves it across the sofa towards him.

"I never agreed to anything concerning her. And It's an exchange, not a gift." He stands up, while Magnussen raises his eyebrows at him. Sherlock walks a few paces forward, then turns round again. He picks up the laptop.

"Forgive me, but..." He holds the laptop to his chest and runs his fingers over the back. "I already seem to have it."

"It's password protected." The shark doesn't look up from the machine, and John and Ramona exchange a look. "In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson."

"Oh, she's bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I've seen."

"I don't need to see it.

"You might enjoy it, though." John swallows. "I enjoy it."

"Then why don't you show us?" Sherlock interrupts, nonchalantly.

"Show you Appledore?" He puts the laptop onto the sofa beside him, then looks back at Sherlock. "The secret vaults? Is that what you want?"

"I want everything you've got on Mary and Ramona."

Magnussen lets out a short breathy laugh, shaking his head a little, then he lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his head and chuckles for a few seconds. John's mouth twists and he shoots a brief glance towards Sherlock. Eventually The Shark stops sniggering and looks down to the laptop, patting it and grimacing a little, looking to her with a knowing grin.

"I'm not sure you'd like what I've got on your little angel." Sherlock's brow creases momentarily, looking to her for a reaction, and she looks down at the ground, her palms beginning to sweat, her heart racing in fear. "You know, I honestly expected something good."

"Oh, I think you'll find the contents of that laptop-"

"Include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived... They'll find top secret information in my hands... "He reaches forward and picks up his glass from the table. "And have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I'll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with your saving grace, and Mr and Mrs Psychopath." Sherlock looks to her, even more confused as to why Magnussen was referring to her as these things. "Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He'll be a very, very proud big brother." He takes a final drink, emptying the glass.

"The fact that you know it's going to happen isn't going to stop it." Sherlock replies, as Magnussen puts down the glass.

"Then why am I smiling?" He looks up at them, with the said smile plastered over his face. "Ask me."

"Why are you smiling?" John asks, taking a step towards them.

Ramona calculates the situation, trying to figure out the mistake Sherlock had made.

"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves..." Magnussen looks at her, with a smirk. "And everything he holds dear. Let me show you the Appledore vaults."

Magnussen leads the others across the room and through the open glass doors of a study. He walks across to the wooden doors at the side of the room and then turns back to the others, putting a hand on the doors.

"The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all."

He turns and takes hold of the door handles, then pulls the doors open. Magnussen steps slowly through the doors, and the three share a look of confusion. After a moment he slowly begins to turn around. Inside the doors is nothing more than a small windowless room, painted white and brightly lit. It's no more than a few feet deep and the ceiling is about eight feet high. The only thing in the room is a metal and leather low-backed executive chair. As he slowly continues to turns around, Sherlock's eyes quickly skim around the whiteness, then his eyes go back to Magnussen.

"Okay- so where are the vaults, then?" John asks.

"Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building." He sits down at his chair.

"They're all in here."

"Oh, no." Ramona mutters, realising the catastrophic mistake Sherlock has made. Magnussen leans forward and slowly raises the fingers of his right hand to touch his temple.

"The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don't you?" Sherlock swallows slightly, and Ramona shakes her head in disbelief.

"How to store information so you never forget it- by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes..." He does so. "And down I go to my vaults. I can go anywhere inside my vaults... My memories... I'll look at the files on Mrs Watson."

Sherlock closes his eyes and shakes his head a little, his lips pulled back from his teeth. John stares at Magnussen as he raises both hands and flickers his fingers in front of him as if he is working his way through the files inside the imaginary drawer. John clears his throat and looks down with a humourless smile as he seems to start to understand how Magnussen's mind works. Ramona struggles not to laugh at the ridiculous looking man, Still flicking through the files in the drawer, he hums idly to himself while, in his Mind Palace, as he presumably works his way along the files.

"Mmm, ah, This is one of my favourites. Oh, it's so exciting." Sherlock lowers his head with a shocked look on his face while Magnussen chuckles quietly. "All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh! She's gone a bit... freelance now. Bad girl. Ah, she is so wicked. I can really see why you like her." In the white room he lifts both hands and turns them over, then opens his eyes and looks at Sherlock. "You see?"

"So there are no documents. You don't actually have anything here."

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something..." He lifts his left hand and looks down at his watch, before catching Ramona's gaze, and holding it menacingly. "If I really need it..." Sherlock looks away a little, closing his eyes briefly. "But mostly I just remember it all."

"I don't understand." John says.

"You should have that on a T-shirt."

"You just remember it all?"

"It's all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning."

"But if you just know it, then you don't have proof."

"Proof? What would I need proof for? I'm in news, you moron. I don't have to prove it- I just have to print it." Sherlock's gaze is lowered and his expression suggests that he is fully aware of how badly he has miscalculated. Seeing him like this puts her even more at edge, beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. She was waiting for the right time, but it seemed that there was no right time anymore.

She had come here to murder Charles Augustus Magnussen. Nothing more- nothing less. She fully knew the consequences- and accepted them without hesitation. It was for everyone she loved, everyone's safety, and they definitely came before herself.

"Speaking of news, you'll all be heavily featured tomorrow- trying to sell state secrets to me." He tuts disapprovingly, and then looks at his watch again.

"Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly." Ramona's fist tightened.

She was angry, more than angry, she was furious. He walks out of the room and heads towards the glass doors.

"Can't wait to see you arrested." John watches him go, then steps closer to the two.

"Do we have a plan?" She bites her lip, as Sherlock is fixed in place, still looking down towards the floor of the white room, his gaze unfocused. When Sherlock doesn't move, John turns and walks away. Sherlock shuts his eyes, screwing them closed with a look of despair.

"Why are you here, Ramona?" She blinks twice, and looks up to him.

"I could ask you the exact same thing. If you'd just stayed out of it, Sherlock, I could of..." She looks away briefly, gritting her teeth. "But you had to show up, didn't you?"

She walks away from him, leaving them both confused. Magnussen walks across the sitting room to a glass door which leads out onto a patio. He goes outside and looks around.

The sky is darkening, the early evening closing in. She walks past John, and does something that makes her heart jump to her throat, mouth drying in anticipation that makes her hate herself. Ramona, shortly followed by John, appear on the patio.

"He's taking his time, isn't he?" Ramona stops besides Magnussen.

"I still don't understand." John says.

"And there's the back of the T-shirt." Ramona would have laughed,if her heart wasn't beating so fast.

"You just know everything about everyone." She begins. "But what's the point to it? Why bother?" Magnussen looks up to the sky, and then to Sherlock, slowly walking towards the patio door, and reaches it, just standing outside the doorway, watching as Magnussen turned his attention to Ramona.

"I enjoy watching people squirm, Mona." She raises an unimpressed eyebrow, although slightly unnerved. "In fact, I've been loving watching you squirm in my grip for a while, now." The men frown in confusion, as Ramona's eyes widen. "Oh, that got a reaction out of you, didn't it?"

"Shut up." She says, her voice not as strong as she'd like it to be. He chuckles.

"All this time, and your spine's still intact." She swallows, and glares at him. "It really is the result of good breeding." He muses.

"Good... I'm sorry?"

"What? Oh, nothing." Her eyes narrow. "Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah, yes, the way you look squirming in discomfort."

"Could we stop with the whole squirming thing, maybe?" She tries to belittle him.

"In fact, I'd like to see it right now." Sherlock's eyes dart up to him. "Come here for a minute." She glances at Sherlock for a second.

Ramona gives him a warning look.

"That is, unless you'd like for me to show your friends something?" Her eyes widen, and her palms begin to sweat. Sherlock's brow creases.

Ramona walks over to the revolting man, who leans down.

"Look how much you care about him, hm?" He smirks. "Or maybe you care more about what he thinks of you."

"Magnussen." She growls.

"I'm taking a bit of a risk here- manipulating you for my own pleasure." His voice is smooth, and dangerous.

"What are you talking about?" She hisses, and he smirks again.

"Wild animals... When they're cornered, they lash out." He takes a breath, and she frowns harder. "Now, can I touch you?" She pulls back, looking mildly horrified, swallowing. "I'd normally flick your face, but you... You're so desirable. You seem to set off a lot of men's instincts, but I suppose that yet again, it's all in the blood."

She narrows her eyes in disgust.

"The day I let you touch me is the day I lose all self respect." Her voice was venomous, and despite the situation, Sherlock felt a swell of brief pride.

"Oh, your resistance just makes it even better. I'm afraid you don't have a choice, however." Her face falls, and she swallows her self respect momentarily.

She takes a step forward and leans her face forward to the man, and he puts a damp hand on her cheek, and Ramona feels bile actually rise in her throat. His breath was too warm, and it made her feel sick as it spreads across her face.

He puts a fingertip in the middle of her forehead, and begins slowly running it down the centre of her face, along her nose. She recoils in horror, and he chuckles.

"Come on, bring your face back here." She grits her teeth, and does as she's told. Sherlock watches, his stomach twisting all the while in rage. Magnussen sighs in content.

"I just adore this." He looks over to Sherlock, who's eyes are dark with pure fury. "I could do it all day." He runs a finger down her nose, and she struggles not to wretch, as his damp fingertip runs over the centre of her lips.

"It works like this, Mona. I know your deepest, darkest secret."

He stops briefly, admiring the disgusted look on her face, and pushes her head back suddenly by her chin, so that all she can see is the dark sky, and the stars that seemed so oblivious to all the pain on the ground.

"I know where to find people that want Mary Watson dead." Sherlock's expression is grim.

Magnussen looks at her neck with desire. Not the kind that you would see between two lovers, the kind you'd see with a hunter, and an endangered animal, loading his rifle.

"I have something that can tear you down. I know how to use it..." His voice turns to a hushed tone, that makes her want to scream and run.

His fingertip runs down the centre of her neck, and stop at her collarbone, at the top of her blouse. He chuckles.

"And this is where it gets interesting." Sherlock bares his teeth in fury.

She suddenly feels hands on her hips, and screws her eyes shut, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird's inside her chest.

"I'll use all of that... And you let me take what I want from you..." John hears Sherlock's teeth audibly grinding behind him.

"Just because I know." His hands begin to move up from her hips to her waist, slowly, disgustingly.

"Come on. For everything and everyone you've ever loved." He leans in. A white out of complete revulsion and shock pangs through her. He gets closer to her pushed back face, and her screwed eyes.

"Sherlock." She squeaks out.

"I'm so sorry." Magnussen looks round at him. "Just... I'm sorry."

"Come on. Look at me." Magnussen looked at Sherlock, with a snide smirk on his face, trying to provoke him, using the easiest way to get an angry reaction out of the detective.

Sherlock's expression was a mix of despair, and a look that implied murder.

"Or perhaps I should do something better." A pang of fear runs through her, as his hands glide to the first button of her blouse. He undoes the button, and at the same time, Sherlock starts to pace towards him.

Suddenly, they're interrupted but the sound of an approaching helicopter. It soars over the roof and at the same time, armed police marksmen run towards the patio. The helicopter drops down to hover some yards away, its spotlight aimed towards the men on the patio, as they are buffeted by the wind from the rotors, Mycroft's voice blares out over a speaker on the helicopter.

"Mona Doherty, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Stand away from that man." Sherlock looks away as Magnussen steps back from Ramona.

"Here we go, Mr Holmes! "

"To clarify: Appledore only exists in your mind." Sherlock asks.

"They're not real. They never have been." Sherlock nods, and goes to John, as Ramona looks down, reaching to her waistband at the back.

"Step away." Magnussen walks forward a couple of steps, waving his hands calmly at the helicopter.

Sherlock's eyes widen, realising what he wanted wasn't there, and he looks to Ramona in terror.

"It's fine! They're harmless!" The armed police continue moving into position, aiming their rifles towards the patio.

"Target is not armed. I repeat, target is not armed."

"Sherlock, what do we do?" John shouts.

"Nothing!" Magnussen tells them. "There's nothing to be done! Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them! Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr Holmes."

"Stand away from that man. Do it now." Magnussen turns to her.

"Now, my dear, when can we arrange to pick up from where we left off?" She looks at him in disdain, her true nature starting to show. Ramona's eyes narrow, and she bares her teeth.

"Or, I could do this."

She pulls the gun from her waistband, pointing it out with a straight arm, not shaking in the slightest.

"RAMONA!" Sherlock roars. She turns to him quickly, and points it at him as he begins walking towards her.

"Don't come any closer!" Sherlock freezes, and steps back.

"Mona Doherty. Lower your weapon this instant!" Her vision began to blur with tears, as Magnussen smirks at her.

"Sorry, but I don't think you've got the guts." Her mouth parts in shock. "Do you remember the last time you killed someone?" He takes a step forward. "Do you really have what it takes to pull the trigger?"

"I guess we'll have to find out." Magnussens eyes widen slightly, seeing that fire in her eyes. "Anything you've got to say?" She shouts above the helicopter.

"Do not shoot the target! I repeat, do not shoot the target!" Mycroft's voice, keeping her safe after all this time. Ramona realises she doesn't care if one of the armed police officers shoots her dead at this exact moment.

She shrugs at his silence, as Magnussen appears terrified.

"It's really nothing personal." Ramona shouts, her voice viciously ripping against the sounds of the helicopter. "I'm just doing my job!" Magnussen's face contorts in fear, and Ramona pulls the trigger without a second thought.

The bullet hits him right in between his eyes, and CAM crumples lifelessly to the patio.

Ramona seems to come out of her murderous state, and stares at the gun in her hand, a horrified expression, her face abruptly dropping.

Her left hand shakes, and she takes a step back from the corpse that she had put there. Ramona lets out a sob, only now comprehending what she had done, what it really meant.

But that wasn't the only reason she was so terrified.

The feeling she had got from pointing a gun at him- it was pure joy. She had scared herself, terrified of what she was capable of.

"Ramona!"

Sherlock takes a few steps towards her, and she quickly puts the muzzle of the gun to her temple, eyes steeled.

"Stay there!" Her voice is strangled, heavy with emotion. Sherlock's eyes are wide. "Stay away from me!" She orders, splaying out her other hand in front of him, keeping them away, and pushes the gun harshly into her delicate skin.

Sherlock raises his hands with John in surrender, and she looks at the glaring lights of the helicopter, the cold steel in her hand- and drops to her knees, colliding harshly with the stone of the patio.

She had murdered someone. Ramona had killed another person. What was wrong with her?

Her body was wracked with sobs as she doubled over, hiding her face in her hands and crying hard, shame and self loathing crippling her.

"Stand fire!"

The police marksmen run towards the patio, surrounding Ramona and aiming their rifles down at her. She doesn't look up.

"Do not fire on Mona Doherty! Do not fire!"

"Oh, Christ, Ramona." Johns voice, full of despair and anguish. She drops the gun.

Her hands go to her head in surrender, and she desperately tries to compose herself, slowly looking up.

And then, she grins.

Everyone's taken aback by the completely insane look on her face, the wide ecstatic smile, paired with desperately sad eyes, and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ramona began to laugh hysterically, as if she were a lunatic.

Sherlock's mouth fell open, and a pang of terror ran through him.

The fear she was capable of striking into someone- right into their heart, burning it. It had reminded him of something.

He had been wracking his brain for what it was, and now, a single word revolved around her, filling his mind, and infiltrating every thought.

Moriarty.


Yep! I'm so sorry about this haha

And also, Ciara is pronounced 'Kee-ra', but if you've been pronouncing it 'see-ar-a' that's fine, too

Thank you for reading my story, and all my love if you leave a review!