"Time to choose." My eyes dart between the two bottles.
"What if I don't choose? I could just walk out of here, you can go back to killing people, we can both get back to our lives." He pulls the gun from his lap, facing it towards me again.
"I don't have a life to get back to," he spits at me. "You take a pill, or I shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no one's gone for that option."
"If that's one of my options, I'll go for it," I joke, smiling. "If you would be so kind, I have chosen. The gun, please."
"Is that your final choice?"
"Yes, now shoot me."
"Don't want to phone a friend?"
"Just shoot me!" He pulls the trigger ever so slowly before the tip burst into a tiny flame, which makes me smile with relief. "I know a real gun when I see one."
"None of the others did," he says, putting the gun on the table.
"Obviously," I state, standing up. "This has been interesting, can't wait for the court case." I start towards the door, opening it inches before he calls me back.
"Before you go, what would you have picked? Just so I know if you would have beat me or not." I sigh heavily before closing the door, walking close to him again. I grab the pill closest to him, depositing it into my hand.
"What do you think. Willing to play one more round?" I ask absentmindedly.
"You seem to be the only victim that wants to die."
"Everyone gets bored sometimes," I admit, my ears perking up at the sound of a distant door slam.
"You so sure of your choice then?" He takes the pill out of the other jar, holding it in his fingers. "We'll take them together, and watch the outcome. You ready?" I hold my pill close to my mouth. "One."
"Two," I finish for him, inching it closer towards me.
"Three," we say in unison, centimeters from placing the pills on our tongues. A loud bang rings out, and the cabbie falls as I jump back in shock, dropping my pill to the floor. I turn around and look out the window to see who was to blame, but there was no one. I turn back to the cabbie, eyeing his bloody shoulder with a skillful eye. It's a fatal wound, nicked an artery. He'll be dead in a matter of seconds.
"Was I right?" I demand, bending over to get closer. "Would I have survived!?" I scream, tears streaking down my face. "Tell me if it would have killed me, please!"
"I'll let you live with the benefit of the doubt," he smiles at his response, but is soon distracted by his wound. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, straightening my back and outstretching my leg to rest on the wound.
"Give me a name, who are you working for?" He shakes his head no, but I apply pressure with my foot. "A NAME!"
"Moriarty!" He screams in pain, making me step away in shock. Moriarty? No, it can't be, I thought I heard the last of him years ago. I sit and stare at the cabbie until the life drains from his eyes, taking all his secrets with him.
I sit unmoving in the back of an ambulance, people working all around me. I have become more-than-slightly attached to a little square of the road to stare at, lost in my thoughts. Why does it have to be Moriarty? Lestrade breaks me from my thoughts, walking over and placing yet another shock blanket on my shoulders.
"Lestrade, why do you care about the blanket on my shoulders? I'm not in shock!" I ask, moving my eyes to look at him.
"You've been staring at the same spot of road for fifteen minutes. I'd say you're in shock," comes his reply. "You were almost killed back there, it's our job to protect you."
"I didn't need protecting, I knew what I was doing."
"Regulation says I have to ask you questions now, so did you see who shot him?"
"Lestrade," I start, irritated. "I was in the middle of something, if you hadn't guessed it already. I was focusing on how to survive, not who shot who."
"Understandable, but you need to come down to the station tomorrow, maybe give us something."
"I'll try." He smiles at me one more time before walking away, leaving me with my thoughts once again.
"You're alright," Donovan states, drawing my attention to her. She smiles slightly before nodding her head to her right. Sherlock stands quietly behind the police tape, looking at me with relief. "You can go home now." I smile back at her before shrugging the blanket off my shoulders and running towards Sherlock. He holds the tape up for me to duck under, and soon sweeps me up in a tight embrace.
"Again with the hugging!" I laugh, hugging him back. He pulls back after a few moments, staring at me. "Nice shot, did you get the powder burns off your fingers yet?" His brows furrow in confusion.
"What do you mean? I didn't shoot him," he protests, making me even more confused.
"Well then, whoever did has got their eye out for me, and I owe them." Sherlock smiles slightly, turning to walk away. "Oh, and Sherlock?" He turns back, facing me again. I reach out for his arm, pulling myself closer. It almost seems like he accepts it, tilting his head lower to meet me. At the last moment, I stopped, turning away to hide my rosy cheeks. "Nevermind, it's not important."
"Dinner?" He asks, almost disappointed.
"Starving."
"I know a decent Chinese place. End of Baker Street, open till two. You can tell how good a place like that is by the bottom two-thirds of the door handle."
"Really? I thought it had to do with the doormat," I joke, trying to make it less awkward. He smiles, but suddenly stops and looks angry again. I look to where he was glaring, and spot Mycroft climbing out of his car. "Oh my God, Mycroft. Can't you leave me alone for one day? You left me alone for three years, but not for one day?"
"Jane, dear, how lovely to see my brother being domestic. You've done a great job, I'll get you that money by tomorrow," Mycroft states, smiling.
"I see you've met." Sherlock turns to me. "Three years?"
"Now is not the time to talk about it, Sherlock."
"Yes, Sherlock, maybe you should stay out of this." Mycroft adds to my statement.
"You don't get to talk to him like that," I threaten, glaring at him. He holds his hands up in a mock surrender, obviously not taking me seriously.
"Well, this has been a lovely family reunion," Sherlock says sarcastically. "Mycroft, I'd show you the door, but I'm afraid you would start offering it money to spy on me. Come along, Jane." We walk away in silence, ignoring the calls of Sherlock's brother for us to come back and talk to him. Once we create a distance, we slow down and start joking again, lightening the mood.
"Did you get a name off the cabbie?" He asks suddenly, and I stop smiling.
"Moriarty," I say simply, ignoring the feeling that snaked up my body.
"What's that face? I know that face, what's wrong?"
"I knew someone named Moriarty. Many years ago, they're gone now, but..." I take a deep breath. "That name brings it all crashing back."
"I understand," he says sympathetically. "So, dinner?"
"Lead the way," I tell him, grinning again. He smiles in return, starting towards the traffic to find a cab. My phone starts to ring, so I let him get the cab while I pull out my phone. The caller ID makes me panic, but I ignore the call.
"What's the matter?" Sherlock yells over, one foot in a cab. I put my phone back in my pocket and walk over.
"Nothing. Let's go." I climb in after him, closing the door as the cab pulls away. After a few minutes, Sherlock pulls out money to pay the driver as we come to our destination. We step out, and Sherlock starts walking down the street to the restaurant, only pausing when he realizes I'm not behind him. "I'll catch up with you in a bit, I need to return that call." He hesitates, but nods and enters the restaurant. Once he's gone, I muster all my inner strength to dial, holding the phone to my ear.\
"Jane, dear, how lovely to hear from you!" The voice on the other end states cheerfully.
"What do you want?"
"I just wanted to check up on you, see how you're doing. That was quite the scare, wasn't it? That cabbie taking you and almost killing you?"
"Yeah, well, I'm fine now."
"Only because of me." It finally dawns on me.
"You shot him, it was you!"
"Well, I had to, didn't I? He was supposed to go after Sherlock, I told him to keep his filthy little hands off of you. He didn't listen, so he had to go. I needed to protect you."
"Why is everyone so obsessed with protecting me! I don't need protection at every hour of the day, I'm not a damsel in distress, Jim."
"I never said you were."
"You implied it."
"I just care about you, Jane. You're walking a dangerous path, getting all buddy-buddy with Sherlock. Just remember that this isn't the last you'll hear of me."
"I thought I heard the last of you years ago, I've learned not to trust you when it comes to stuff like that."
"You get that from dad."
"Shut up."
"Seen you soon, Jane." He hangs up with a click, leaving me alone with my thoughts. A hand on my shoulder makes me jump, but I turn around to see Sherlock.
"Where's your coat? You'll catch your death out here," I state, ignoring the information rattling in my brain.
"I was watching you through the window, you seemed pretty upset. What was that call about?"
"Oh, you know. Family issues." I leave it at that, following him into the restaurant.
Hello again, I hope you liked my little plot twist! It was an idea I had ages ago, and I'm glad I got to share it with you like this. I kinda forgot Blind Banker existed, so I'll need some time to work on that. I'll be back, I promise, just give me some time to work on it.
See you later!
xxIshipit24xx
