Sorry guys for taking out such a long time but I had to think a bit about this chapter because this is the last chapter of this story… But no need to panic because there is still another story coming into the London Is Never Safe Tale! Please, as always: Feel free to leave your comments! Thank you! x

The Nails Of Terror (Chapter 16)

13:30, Tuesday: On our way to 'somewhere'

After five minutes in the cab it stops at The British Museum... The journey to there was quiet. Sherlock was staring out of his window; I was staring at him... At his face, which seemed alien for the first time when I saw him; his gorgeous, soft, black curls, they fall in front of his eyes so perfectly, even when he don't want them to... I think he knew I was staring at him, but he didn't care...

He jumps out of the cab.

"Hold the cab!" He shouts over his shoulder. "I'll take ten minutes!"

"What are you up to again Sherlock?" I ask as I catch up with him after I told the cabbie to wait at least half an hour… Another 10 quid just gone like that…

"You'll see…" He says as he turns into a dark alley next to the museum. He pulls out a piece of paper off his pocket and hands it to a dark figure at the end of the alley. The dark figure hands him an other piece. Sherlock slips it into his pocket, turns around and walks back to me.

"What was that about?" I ask, my voice is low, I'm nearly whispering, as we're on our way back to the cab, which is still standing there.

"She's part of my Homeless Network but you don't have to worry about that!"

"Ok then…" I sit in the cab suspiciously as Sherlock opens the door for me.

13:40, Same day: 221B Baker Street

"I'll be in the bathroom, Sherlock!" I shout over to Sherlock, although I'm standing right next to him. He's reading something and usually when he's reading something he can't hear anything from 'the outside world'. He's not answering so I just turn around and march into the bathroom.

14:00, Same day: 221B Baker Street:

Sherlock is sitting at his laptop by the time I finish in the bathroom. I walk out in my robe and with a towel on my hair.

"What are you doing?" I ask as I take the towel off and start to dry my hair.

"Going through Moriarty's old case..." He answers without looking up from his laptop.

"Oh... Do you mean The Robbery?" I ask as I sit onto the sofa.

"Yep!" He jump up from his seat from the table, places both of his hands together, places them under his chin and starts to pace around the room.

"What are you thinking, Sherlock?" I ask as he walks the hundredth circle around the room.

"Why?" He cries as he throws himself onto the sofa right next to me, squeezes me by both of my upper arms and shakes me. "Why did he kill John?" He pulls me even closer to him and he stares into my eyes. I can see teardrops gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Sherlock..." I whisper softly as he lets go off my arms and covers his head with his own.

'It's really weird to see Sherlock like this... He needs help...' So I wrap my arms around him and he immediately starts sobbing...

After a couple of minutes the sobbing starts to get less and less intense and then he goes completely quiet.

'He must have drifted into sleep...' So I follow his example and have an afternoon nap too.

18:00, Same day: 221B Baker Street

"SHERLOCK!" I scream as I suddenly wake up from sleep.

"What?" He rushes to me from the kitchen. He kneels down next to the sofa. I quickly wrap my arms around him and run my fingers through his curls. "Guess it was a nightmare then! With me in it? What Happened?"

"You died..." I whisper still clinging to him.

"Suicide or murder?" He asks. I lift my head off his shoulder and I give him The Look. "What? Is it a problem that I want to know how I'll die? Anyway, want dinner?" He asks and in the same minute the doorbell rings.

"Yes, please! I'm really hungry!"

"Ok just a second..." And he rushes downstairs to answer the bell and returns with boxes of Chinese food. "Dinner served!"

06:00, Wednesday: 221B Baker Street

I wake up to the ringing of my phone... I pick it up from the pillow next to me, still half asleep, and see it says Sherlock's name on the screen. I answer.

"Do you know what time it is, Sherlock?" I ask in a really angry voice. Well as angry as I half asleep person can be.

"Miss Rogers? It's Officer Alabama..." I blacked out completely... Why does the police have Sherlock's phone. "I'm afraid I'll have to tell you some bad news..."

"No, no, no... NO!" I scream, I cry into the phone. "Where did you find him?"

"In Soho, ma'am…"

"Well that helps a lot!" I answer in an irritated voice as I try to squeeze myself into a pair of my jeans. "Where exactly?"

"I'm afraid I can't…"

"Oh for the love of God! Just say it!" I literally scream into the phone as I throw a white T-shirt on and try to pull my comb out of my hair.

"Admiral Duncan Pub… On Old Compton Street.." I hang up, grab a pair of my trainers, rush downstairs with tears streaming down my face and try to catch a cab… Of course at this time of the morning there is lots of cabs on the streets! But fortunately one turns into the street…

'This is really, really lucky!' I put my hand out to stop the cabbie. The driver stops, I jump in and murmur the address to him.

"I'll give you extra tip if you take me on the shortest and quickest way…" I say as I desperately trying to put my trainers. "Piece of sh…" I exclaim as I throw the trainers to the door opposite me but I don't finish the last word completely because I start to sob… Uncontrollably… "He's gone…" I whisper to the cabbie as my tears start to dry up and he looks into the rearview mirror to check on me. "Sherlock's dead!" And the tears coming back…

06:45, Same day: Admiral Duncan Pub, Old Compton Street

The cab stops, I get out (the trainers are on me by now) with cried out eyes, I rush in and… Suddenly, everything and everyone disappear… A body, lying on the floor. Covered up. Still. Before I even realize I start to walk into the way of the body… Lestrade grabs me just before I could reach the body but I can still reach the cover on the corpse's head. I pull it off and… My breathing stops for several seconds and I lose all of my strength. Lestrade starts to pull me away from Sherlock's corpse… A… A bullet straight through his forehead… Just like John… And as the sudden realization comes, that Sherlock is there, just lying there… With a bullet through his head because… Because of me!

A weird feeling suddenly takes over my whole body and I start trying to make my way back to him… Lestrade tries to hold me back but he's not enough so he call a couple of Officers over. One of them grabs my upper arms and I'm so desperate to get to Sherlock that I punch that Officer straight in the face.

"Ok Shara…" Says Lestarde. "That's enough! We'll take you to the Station."

They put me into a Police car and that's only when I realize that someone else is sitting next to me…

"How are you, Dear!" Exclaims the bizarre person but I recognize his voice. I turn to him.

"You…"

"Oh, watch your language, love…"

"How could you…" I ask as tear drops are gathering in my eyes.

"How could I what?"

"I hope you'll go to Hell!"

07:15, Same day: West End Central Police Station

As we walk into the Police Station an Officer takes the handcuffs off me and I turn to Lestrade.

"Where did you found him?" I ask.

"Who Moriarty?" I nod. "He was at the crime scene."

"Can I talk to him? I only need ten minutes…"

He thinks for a second… "You'll get five. I'll take him to a room where you can talk to him."

He walks me to a room with only a table and two chairs in there and a big tinted 'window'. Moriarty sits on one of the chairs with his handcuffs still on his wrists.

"Five minutes…" Lestrade states before he lets me in.

"Oh, can I get the keys for his handcuffs?"

Lestrade thinks a bit once again, pulls two little keys off his pocket and gives it to me.

I walk in, take the handcuffs off Moriarty's wrists and sit down on the seat opposite him.

"Why?" Is simply what I ask.

"Is 'revenge' is a clear answer?" He answers coldly.

"You crazy, cold hearted son of a b…"

"Oh I see… You loved him didn't you? He was your everything…" He leans closer and stairs straight into my eyes. Coldly.

I can feel tear drops gathering in the corners of my eyes again so I turn away.

"Oh, that hurts… Really hurts. Don' it?"

I stand up and stare at the tinted 'window'. I know Lestrade stands behind it… I start my way to the door, showing my back to Moriarty for the whole time.

"Oh…"

"Don't! Just… Just don't!" I cut into his words struggling with my tears.

He chuckles. I take a deep breath in getting ready for the humiliating comments but he's not saying anything. So I just turn to him.

"The minimum, I repeat myself, the minimum time that you'll spend in prison is five years. Are you listening? Five… Years… And this is only for killing Sherlock… It's minimum another five years for the life, the great life of John…" And then I walk out. "He's yours from now on…"I meet with Lestrade in the hallway. "Only call me when you really need me… No do you know what don't even call me only when it's an emergency… Or Sherlock's alive…"

(A/N: So guys... I'm afraid this us the end of The Nails Of Terror but I'm planning on doing two more books for this sequel and I can proudly revel the title of the next book is: The Truth About The Past! I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it and see you in the next story!)