Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has commented on the story. Since the story seemed to be going a bit slow (and I was afraid that it would seem that way), I cut out some of the chapters. So, hopefully, this chapter will seem much more...interesting than the first eleven.
Thank you for your continued support, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter!
The next day or so was uneventful, full of sightseeing and just being with each other. Most of the time they didn't leave the hotel until it was early afternoon. That didn't bother Sherlock, though. He liked spending time in the hotel with John; it meant that they could just lay in bed for most of the day or they could be intimate. It seemed like being together was more important than sightseeing, which made Sherlock happy. He wasn't always in the mood to sightsee.
Right now, they were walking around the city, just enjoying the sights. John squeezed Sherlock's hand gently as he glanced at the sky, which was dotted with stars. Since when had it become night? Had they really been out for that long? He chuckled softy as he glanced at his husband, who was looking this way and that.
"It's nighttime." He said softly, breaking the silence.
Sherlock chuckled and nodded.
"Beautiful deduction, John."
"We haven't eaten dinner yet."
"That is correct."
"Do you think that we should?" As if on cue, John's stomach growled.
"Do you want to?"
"Of course...I'm very hungry." He glanced around them. Naturally, there weren't any restaurants around them. John frowned. "There's nothing around here, Sher."
Sherlock looked around them and nodded.
"Well, we'll just have to look around a bit. There are restaurants around here, though. I checked the map earlier." He looked in the other direction, towards an intersection. "Here, this way."
He gestured for John to follow him. He held his hand loosely as they made their way to the uncrowded intersection. He pressed the button that made the walk sign pop up. Right when the light changed, a voice called Sherlock. Sherlock's hand curled up into a fist. No, it couldn't be.
"Well, well, well...it's been a long time, Sherlock," the voice said. Sherlock turned around and held onto John's hand with his other. He pushed him behind him.
A man, one that he had tried to forget, stood in front of them. The man was about a few inches taller than Sherlock and he had blonde hair. He was wearing a grey suit that seemed to set off his blue eyes. Sherlock's stomach churned.
"Well…who is this? Do you have a pet now, Sher?" He glanced over Sherlock's shoulder at John. John's eyebrows furrowed; his gaze flicked to Sherlock. Who was this?
Sherlock squeezed John's hand.
It's not important, John. It really isn't. He seemed to say, trying to calm John down.
The man's eyes gleamed in the dark.
"Wow, you've trained him well, haven't you, Sher? He seems to obey you even when you don't talk to him." The man grinned and took a few steps closer to Sherlock, not stopping until he was only a few feet in front of him. Sherlock swallowed and took a step away from the other man. The man clucked his tongue.
"Now, you know how I don't like that." He said, glaring at him. Sherlock nodded and took a step towards him; what can he say? Old habits die hard.
The man nodded. "Much, much, better." He looked around Sherlock at John. John was standing behind Sherlock, dumbfounded. Who was this guy? How could he just...control Sherlock like this? He glanced between the two men, suddenly wishing that he could deduce as well as Sherlock. Obviously he knew that they knew each other, but how? Were they at university together? He glanced at Sherlock, waiting for an explanation, but his husband didn't see him; he was too busy looking at the other man.
"What do you want?" Sherlock snapped, sending John out of his thoughts. The man frowned and tapped Sherlock's chin.
"Now, that's no way to talk to me."
Sherlock stared him down; his mind whirled, thinking of ways to get out of this. Thinking of why he still let this man control him. That time had passed. He was no longer that man. He swallowed and took a few steps back, away from him. He gently nudged John's hand, moving in front of his body slightly so the other man couldn't see.
"Vatican cameos," he whispered.
John's thoughts halted completely. Vatican cameos. Sherlock said vatican cameos. Before he could think about what he wanted to do, he ran down the sidewalk, pulling Sherlock with him. Sherlock turned and followed him. They sprinted down the sidewalk, not bothering to turn around and look at the guy and his men. Footsteps followed them, making Sherlock and John run faster. Sherlock squeezed John's hand gently, hoping that his husband would squeeze his hand back. John did, as if telling Sherlock that everything was okay, that he wasn't mad at him. A very small breath of relief escaped Sherlock.
That relief was short-lived, though; right when they reached the corner, they heard something go off. John recognized the sound immediately. No. He swerved a bit, trying to dodge the bullet. Luckily, he managed to dodge it. He kept running, but Sherlock was no longer running next to him. He looked around frantically.
"Sherlock?" he called loudly. He looked around until he saw a man lying a few feet away from him. Sherlock. He was staring at the man that he had just married a few weeks ago. The man that he had called his best friend. He ran over to him and crouched next to him. Tears gathered in his eyes. A pool of blood was starting to form around Sherlock, marking the sidewalk. John's heart pounded in his ears. He shook Sherlock gently.
"Sherlock! Sherlock!" he yelled.
His husband doesn't respond. Doesn't seem to hear. A river of tears run down John's face. No. This couldn't be happening. This. couldn't. be. happening.