Boo hoo! This is the second to last chapter, and I'm hoping it will at least make your heart stop. Not literally, I can't write like that. Anyway, thanks to all those who have reviewed. This has been really fun to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it to. Quick review of last chap: Holmes old girlfriend comes back, Watson gets angry, W meets popular girl named Cherry, becomes friends with her, breaks up with her, becomes friends with H again, and follows as H pursues... someone. Well, enjoy this chapter, and hey, shed a few tears if you want. I hope you liked the song I put into the last story. Only Time is one of my favorite songs, and it's really sad, and it fit. So, here is the next chapter and I hope (as I have said) you all love it!
Chapter Nine: The Final Fight
I raced after Holmes, who had a good head start over me. He had always won foot races, and I was not in the best physical condition. Finally, I reached the old warehouse two minutes after Holmes, clutching a stitch in my side, and struggling to regulate my breath. I stepped inside, and was shocked at what I saw.
Jeffery stood with a gun pointing toward Holmes. My mind whirled.
Jeffery? Why couldn't I see this? I am such an idiot, Yerffej is Jeffery spelled differently. Backwards, with an alteration of the letters. We're going to die.
Jeffery smiled and took a drag of the cigarette in his mouth.
"Miss Watson. I should of known you would follow. Please, step over with Mr. Holmes," he said casually. I sighed and walked over to Holmes. Holmes stared bitterly at Jeffery.
"Now then, Mr. Holmes. It looks as if your little friend could use some enlightening. As of how I nearly killed you and her," he said. I frowned. Holmes sighed.
"Jeffery is Charise's son. I never bothered to find out what her stupid son's name was. He was the one who gave his mother the drugs to put into my tea. Yes, it was drugs. A type of poisoned cocaine, if I'm not mistaken Jeffery?" Holmes asked. Jeffery nodded.
"Anyway. He was the one who fired at you in the gym, figuring if you died, I would kill myself. Plus, he was angry you saved me from the poison. And when he attacked me on the street, he wasn't drunk. He was fully coherent. The knife he used was Danny's hunting knife. The one he stole. He used his mother's hair pin. Jeffery is a well known drug smuggler, and my mo- Marie's third in command," Holmes said. I sighed again. Jeffery laughed.
"Well done Mr. Holmes. Miss Moriarty didn't lie when she said you had excellent detective skills. Sadly, the great detectives days must come to an end someday. And that someday." Jeffery cocked the gun.
"Is now."
Jeffery aimed the gun. Then he smiled.
"I'm sorry. I have to have a cigarette first," he said. I smirked. Jeffery's weakness for cigarettes would be his undoing. As he light the match, I pounced upon him. The match fell to the ground, lighting the multiple papers on fire. Jeffery threw me aside. I landed roughly against the wall. As I rose, I saw Holmes jump at Jeffery. Jeffery caught his sparse body and threw it also, but Holmes was not as easily subdued as I. He stood immediately and punched Jeffery in the mouth. Jeffery returned it with one in the stomach. Soon, they became a whirlwind of fists and kicks. Then the fight turned unfair.
Jeffery pulled out the wicked hunting knife, already stained with Holmes' blood. I gasped as Jeffery approached Holmes. I screamed.
Holmes caught Jeffery's arm, flipped him over, and the knife went skittering into a dark corner. One, two, three more kicks and Jeffery was out cold.
The fire burned around us, and we were nearly surrounded. I ran over to Holmes.
"What are we going to do?" I yelled over the crackling of the flames.
"You will do nothing," said the cold, insane voice I recognized. Then, the cold fire of Jeffery's hunting knife was pressed up against my skin. I froze as Marie continued to talk.
"Ah, Sherlock. I'm so glad you've come. I was hoping to see my son before I killed him. I wanted to talk to you," she said. I stood stick still, watching Holmes. His face was frozen in an expression of regret and hatred mixed.
"Oh come now my dear. Don't look like that. I know you're angry. But can't you forgive your old mother?" Marie asked, all innocence and kindness. I shuddered. Holmes would give in. His mother had been gone since he was ten. And to hear the love and gentleness in her voice...
"Mother. I've missed you. Please, don't do this," Holmes said, his voicing shaking a little. She laughed, her laugh filled with the sadness and pain that only she could feel.
"My son, do you know what I've gone through? Do you know the pain I've felt? You're stupid father hated me, because of my face. If only I'd never left. If only I hadn't gotten into that car. At least I kept you safe," she said, her voice cracking. I felt the tears streaming down my face. This woman, the monster who had tortured me, was human, and felt pain. She loved Holmes, but couldn't come back. Her face kept her from her son, and it hurt to even think about it. Suddenly Holmes lunged forward and yanked the mask off. Marie turned away violently, and I felt my arm snap in her grasp. Our screams echoed together.
"How dare you! My face, this hideous face! You desired to see, and now you shall! Look upon it!" screamed Marie. Her face was covered in black scars, and horizontal cuts. But underneath the scars, you could see the true beauty of a woman who once lived. Marie Holmes was dead now, according to her, but she could live. If she tried.
I curled up with my broken arm, whimpering. Marie smiled.
"Child, do you fear my face?" she asked maliciously. I shook my head.
"Your face is not horrible. You broke my arm, you monster. And just when I thought you might be half human," I spat. She snarled and leapt at me. I grimaced, waiting for her weight to slam on me. It never came. I looked up and saw Holmes had intercepted her. The fought now, the flames close to them. I stared in horror as Holmes refused to hurt her, merely shoved her off his long body. Marie pulled the knife from the flames, not minding her blistering hands. She screamed angrily and raised the knife. I shrieked in horror as the knife slammed into Holmes. He didn't make a single sound, just stared at Marie.
"Mother?" he asked, dumbfounded. Marie stared at him.
"Oh... no... not him... please Lord, not my son! NNNNOOOOOO!" Marie screamed. She flung herself at the ground. She looked at Holmes, and the rapidly gathering pool of blood that surrounded him.
"I love you, Sherlock. Please, forgive me. I'm so sorry. Find it in your heart..." she said, standing. Holmes stared at her, still stunned. Marie burst into tears, and ran through the fire.
I stared after her. Marie Holmes, better known as Marie Moriarty was gone. She wouldn't come back. I slowly picked myself up off the ground and moved toward Holmes.
Holmes had propped himself up against the wall. The blood poured out of his stomach wound like Old Faithful. The flames were all most near enough to kill us, but I had to tell Holmes something.
"Your mother wasn't that bad," I said, leaning on him. He tried to smile, but it cracked.
"I know. She was so sweet... I thought she might return to me," he stated. I looked at him and saw the thin tears streaming down his face. I began to cry too.
"Gosh Holmes. This isn't exactly how I expected to die," I said, trying to make him laugh. I succeeded, but it turned into throaty coughs. I turned to him.
"You know that I loved you, right?" I asked. He smiled.
"Of course. And I you?" he asked immediately. I sniffed.
"Yeah. All though, next time you have a girlfriend, you really oughtn't be so subtle, you know? I got, what?, one, two kisses out of you?" I asked. He smiled again.
"First of all, there won't be another girlfriend. Second of all, I'm really sorry," he answered. I frowned, the flames and the pain in my arm getting closer and stronger.
"For what?" I asked. He began to fade.
"For... never telling you... that I loved you," he uttered. He pulled my face close to his, kissed me gently, then passed out. I began to cry.
"Good bye Holmes. I'll see you in heaven," I whispered. Giving into the pain and my body, I collapsed into his arms, and the blackness and heat surrounded me.
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"Hey Holmes," I said. The place was white, and beautiful. There was a golden glow everywhere, and it felt like home.
"Well, fancy meeting you here Watson," Holmes said. I looked at him. He had a golden glow and looked so happy. I smiled.
"I'm so happy we're alive," I said grinning. Suddenly, the smile that filled Holmes face contracted into a look of horror, and a hole suddenly appeared in his stomach. The blood began to pour over his white sweater.
"Look what you did to me Watson! You just lay there, while I was killed! I hope you rot!" an eerie voice cried. I gasped. It couldn't be Holmes'! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no....
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"Will she be all right doctors?" a scared voice asked. I opened my eyes and looked around. The place was white... heaven?
"She'll be fine. Look, she's opened her eyes," said someone else. I took a deep breath, and came to full awareness.
I lay in a hospital bed, an IV hooked to my arm, and doctors surrounding me. My left arm was covered in a cast, and I could feel burns and bruises covering my legs and face. My mom rushed over.
"Oh baby! Thank God you're all right! I called your father, and he said he's flying in from Michigan to visit his little princess. Oh, honey, I love you. We nearly lost you," my mother sobbed. I looked at her.
"Mom, I love you. I'm really sorry for everything I've ever done. I'm glad you're here," I said. She looked at me.
"Well, what compelled you to say that?" she asked. I closed my eyes again, suddenly very tired.
"A friend's mother taught me that I should be glad to have you around. And that a mother will always love there child, no matter what," I murmured, and fell asleep once again.
The doctors kept me in my room for two days before I demanded to see Holmes. They said I couldn't, which irritated me a lot. Finally, four days after they refused me the first time I burst out.
"Why can't I see Holmes! You're going to kill me trying to keep me here! I can use the blasted wheelchair, I can get to his room! Just let me talk to him!" I yelled at a very persistent nurse. She called for the doctor, and I repeated my request. He looked distinctly uncomfortable and looked me in the face.
"I'm sorry Miss Watson, but Mr. Holmes is... unavailable," the doctor said. I glared at him.
"Why?" I demanded. He sighed.
"Well ma'am, we didn't want to tell you this until you had recovered, but your friend is in a coma. We think that he will die," the doctors said. I looked at him, confused.
"How can he be in a coma?" I asked. The doctor bit his lip, then continued.
"Well, he lost a lot of blood. Too much, in fact. And the burns, the shock... they all lead to a coma. I'm afraid you can't talk to him," the doctor said, rising from his chair that he had sat in at the beginning of our talk. I took a deep breath.
"Then let me at least see him," I said. The doctor shook his head.
"You can't talk to him, Miss," he replied. I scowled, then began to pretend to cry.
"At least let me say good bye," I bawled. The doctor sighed and got a wheelchair. Wiping my face in satisfaction, I allowed myself to be lowered into the chair.
Holmes looked drawn and white. The doctors left us alone, and told me no more than ten minutes. I stared at his face, usually so full of expression, which now looked dead. His long finger twitched with unseen dreams, and the heart monitor beeped annoyingly. I took his hand.
"Well, look at what our investigation got us into. Both of us stuck with the doctors. Ick, I always hated hospitals," I said conversationally. When nothing happened, I squeezed his hand angrily.
"Darn you Holmes! Go and get yourself killed for the sake of a case! Couldn't you at least of waited until you were old? Like seventy or something?" I asked irately. I wheeled my chair so I had my back to him.
"Look, you're my only friend. If you go and die, I'll kill you," I sadly said. Hearing no reply, I sighed. I expected him to wake up at any moment, I think, but I knew it wouldn't happen.
"Marie got away. It stinks, doesn't it? I think she would of gone back to the 'good side' after a little while. She was insane, you see. But she loved you. And doesn't love always find a way?" I asked bitterly.
"Yes," came the slightly sarcastic voice of my good friend. I spun around and saw that his dark blue eyes were open and looking at me. I yelped.
"You're awake!" I screamed. He winced.
"Brilliant deduction. All though if you keep up that infernal screeching, you'll surely knock me unconscious and take out a few windows at the same time," he answered.
"Well, I can see you're feeling better," I grinned. He smiled.
"Yes I am, Watson. Better than I've felt in a long time. Go get the doctors, will you? I'm sure they'll be thrilled with my condition," he answered. Obediently, I spun my chair and went to get the nurse.
