NOTE: Just some random thoughts of Gemma´s in the night before the fall.
Chapter 18a:
Interlude
A pull, ya maybe it was kind of a pull in her chest or an ache, ya an ache sounded more adequate, it hurt like hell. How should she know how to deal with this kind of emotion or even describe it? All she´d ever learnt was to manipulate, to harm and to kill people, not how to care or love for that matter. It hurt, it was painful and not the kind of pain she could simply ignore. All she wanted was the pain to end.
The only option to end her suffering was to end Sherlock.
The darkness of her flat was welcoming after the rough night and sleep was not required until all of that would be over. Careless she dropped her clothes on the way to the bathroom. A hot shower to get rid of the last remainings of the night that stuck on her body seemed like a brilliant idea. Last time in her favorite flat. Did she get sentimental lately?
Under the hot spray her muscles began slowly to relax. Her eyes wandered over her body her ribs and her stomach, the skin there started to form purple and violet bruises. Those would stick for some time a last reminder of Sherlock after he would be gone. Her fingers slid carefully over the outlines of her ribs one by one to make sure none was broken. Slowly her thumb glided over an especially painful spot beneath her fourth rib and against better judgment her whole body tingled with anticipation. She let her other hand slip down between her legs a heavy sigh tumbled from her lips. Just the memory of him fucking her in the cab… Between pleasure and pain her mind became foggy and her eyes fell close. Ya she would definitely miss him. No one before managed to make her come like he did. Rarely had she enjoyed sex before him. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip and her head fell back when she came with a low groan thinking of his eyes on her.
Caring was indeed a disadvantage, the iceman was right. She sighed. It had at least proven to her that she was a human being. Always nice to know that you still belong here. Even though there is not much more that connects her to other beings.
Broken heart. Broken heart. Broken heart. She heard those words in her mind over and over again, she´d heard Doctor Watson say them to Sherlock. Pah she was not the one with a broken heart, she was just… yeah what again? How ordinary, how mundane, no those things didn´t belong in her world. She was cold and rational and so much like Sherlock without the moral, but in the end Sherlock´s moral was questionable, too.
It would all be over soon. No more suffering. No more pull, no more aching in her chest. No more spilled tears.
'Where was Moran? Wasn´t he supposed to be here by now?' She was fully dressed by now; make up applied, hair dried.
'The door, there he is.'
"Gemma?"
'Oh no, why does he have to switch the lights on?
Why does he look so sad? I won´t die for real.
Oh god no, he is not about to hug…?
Oh okay is hugging a thing between us now?
Don´t look at me like that I don´t need to be pampered.
Well at least I have one friend, oh just like Sherlock, is there anything I don´t compare?
Stop occupying my mind!
Fuck, where is this fucking coat?'
"I need to find my coat." Gemma started toward the bedroom but came back a moment later to search the living room.
"One should think that someone like you would be a bit more organized." The humor in Moran´s voice was obvious and Gemma turned towards him. Her coat rested over his arm.
"I prefer the organized chaos." She stated dryly while walking over to where Moran stood close to the door. He helped her in the garment. Gemma winced when she had to move her arms up. She shouldn´t have abused her bruises in the shower…
"Ready?"
"Always ready. Let´s get this over with."
Gemma turned her head and let her gaze run over her flat one last time, she wouldn´t see it for a long time.
'This is goodbye.'