*Sorry this has taken so long lovelies! I was a bit busy with New Year's stuff yesterday and didn't have enough time to write. Then today, I kind of got sucked into Fable III (oops!) and I've been procrastinating a bit. Also, still reeling from having to write the newest chapter for Neighbors and Demons, my Supernatural fanfic. That was probably one of the hardest things for me to write. If you haven't checked it out and are a fan of Supernatural, you definitely should! As always, reviews are wonderful and I really hope that you're enjoying what I've written so far. Have a wonderful day!*

Chapter 3: My Confessions

My eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light of the pub. I scanned the area, spotting Sherlock in the back corner, brooding over a drink. I nudged John's arm, nodding to where Sherlock was sitting. We walked over and he looked up at us, a look of indifference on his face.

"You finally showed up. Did you have fun shopping the day away?"

"You could say that," John muttered. "We were attacked, Sherlock."

The detective shrugged. "I'm not surprised. Carrying around that information on you when they know your face is foolish. I mean, it's not like we're in Ireland where there's a hundred gingers you can blend in with."

I glared at him. "Even if I hadn't had the information on me, I still would have been attacked. And if I had left it with you, you would have been outnumbered two to one."

"You'll learn quickly that I can handle myself. Now, why are you two still talking to me? I'm on the trail of someone."

"Because you're in way over your head and we're here to back you up," John replied through gritted teeth. "Don't be stubborn."

"You're blowing my cover, both of you. I'm the most conspicuous person in this hellhole now."

"You were conspicuous sitting over here alone, not touching your drink," I replied. "You really need to work on your disguises."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose, eyes narrowing. "And you can do better?"

"Who's your mark? I bet you I can get within five feet of him without raising his suspicions."

"Come on you two, this isn't a game. Did we forget that these people have guns and are willing to kill us?" John was trying to act as a voice of reason, but neither Sherlock nor I were hearing it.

"Man at the bar, red polo, tan slacks, gold watch on his left wrist. No wedding band. I realized that he was supposed to meet someone here by a message encoded in that file of yours. His codename is F. Aling. There are multiple messages between him and others, but this was the soonest appointment to meet with the one they call L."

I looked up, scanning the bar, spotting the man standing by himself, looking nervous. "Do you think that he knows who L is?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Judging by how nervous he is, I doubt it. Now, are you going to prove my point that you're blowing my cover?"

I couldn't help but flash him a grin. "Watch me."

I sashayed up to the bar, pulling my hair down out of its ponytail as I did. I flipped it over my shoulder, stepping up to the bar. "Two whiskies, neat. One for me and one for the gentleman down in the red polo."

The bartender nodded, grabbing a bottle from behind him off the shelf. "This alright for ya?"

"Perfect." I flashed him a smile.

"What's the name on the tab?"

I saw out of the corner of my eye that the man in the red polo had turned to look at me with interest. "Put it under Elle, please."

The bartender nodded once more, pouring the drinks. The man in red had moved down the bar towards me, taking the glass. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you Mr. Aling." I watched as his eyes widened. "Have you brought what I asked you to?"

He threw back the whisky before looking at me. "I have. Have you brought me the information?"

"My business partners in the back booth have it. Think of it as protection from you doing something stupid."

"And what makes you think that I would?"

"Because I have dealt with people like you for a very long time." I dropped my voice. "Now, do you have what I'm looking for?"

Internally, I was shaking, unsure of what I was doing. This was way over my head. I was only doing this based off of the stories that my father used to tell me. I couldn't let on that I was nervous even as the man reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial full of clear liquid.

"Osculum mortis, or as you would know it, Kiss of Death. I have managed to invent a way to put any virus or bacteria into a live liquid form. Meaning that if I slipped this liquid into, say, a drink or turned it into a vapor, you would catch whatever disease was in the cocktail."

He shoved the vial into my face and I recoiled. "This right here, is a mixture of bubonic plague, ebola, and measles. I've got many many more in the lab that we're working on making. All you have to do is give me the information and I will be able to make the machine that can turn this into a gaseous form. That way our employer will be happy with both of us."

"And if I don't give it to you?" I asked softly.

The man gave me a strange smile, placing the vial back inside of his pocket. As he did so, I realized that his other hand had been grabbing the gun on his hip, pointing it at my mid-section. "Well then, I suppose our little transaction is over with. I know exactly who you are, Delilah McKinley and I know what you're trying to do. Do you really think that we would continue to keep the appointment with you in possession of the information?"

There was a crash behind me and Mr. Aling's attention was distracted for a split second. I used that moment to disarm him, taking his gun and shoving him backwards into the barstools with my shoulder. As I did so, my other hand was dipping into the pocket, finding the vial. I turned, dashing towards the back of the bar, tucking the gun in the waistband of my pants and the vial in my pocket. As I did, Sherlock and John were following behind me.

The three of us sprinted through the kitchen. I could hear the man's curses behind us. I looked around, spotting a kitchen knife on the counter as we ran by. I grabbed it, turning to look over my shoulder, throwing it. I heard a cry of pain and the three of us burst out into the alley behind the bar.

"Where to?" I asked, looking around wildly. "You all know your way around better than I do."

"Right," Sherlock said, taking off. "And you have a lot of explaining to do."

"Yes you do," John panted out.

"So I'm learning," I mumbled. "Let's just get back to the flat in one piece."

Once we'd made it to the crowds of people on the sidewalk, we tried to blend in. I snagged a hat from the pocket of someone walking. I could hear the shouts of protest after we were half a block away. I pulled my hair up, tucking it under the hat, hiding it as best I could. That hair was a beacon to the enemies and it was starting to become a nuisance. John shot me a dirty look, but I ignored it. I had to do what was necessary in order for us to survive.

We arrived at the flat and Sherlock let us back in. Mrs. Hudson was coming down the stairs, a look of surprise on her face when she saw the three of us.

"Sherlock! But, I thought you were upstairs!"

"What do you mean?" He questioned and I could hear his tone change. "Mrs. Hudson, get to your room and call the police. Now."

Mrs. Hudson's face went pale and she descended the stairs quickly, scurrying back to her flat. All three of us drew guns, going up the stairs quietly. Sherlock stood in front of the door, I took the right, and John took the left.

"If anyone is in there, I suggest you come out with your hands up. We are all armed and we will not hesitate to shoot." There was no answer to Sherlock's request. "I have given you fair warning. We are coming in and will shoot to kill."

He threw the door open, stepping in. I stepped in behind him, checking on the right. The living room was absolutely trashed, the furniture thrown around, papers scattered all across the room. My pack had been torn apart. I turned as the lights flicked on behind me. I saw John standing by the switch, pressing a finger to his lips even as he cleared the kitchen. I realized that Sherlock had gone to clear his room and the rest of the flat. I took the bathroom, finding nothing there.

"All clear!" I shouted, tucking the gun back into the waistband of my pants.

"All clear!" The other two shouted.

We regrouped in the living room and I could see the frown on Sherlock and John's faces as they looked at the mess. I knew it had to be rough for them to see the damage that had been done. The wail of sirens could be heard through the open window and I sighed, knowing that I'd have to hide the gun. It was, after all, an illegally acquired weapon.

I had managed to hide it under the sink in the kitchen when I heard the knock on the front door. Mrs. Hudson's voice was shaky as she let the officers into the flat. They came up the stairs and I decided to make myself scarce, not wanting to be seen by any of them. I left the room, giving Sherlock a small nod downstairs, indicating that that's where I was headed.

I took the hat off as I did so, knowing that it made me look a bit suspicious. Mrs. Hudson was visibly shaken as she spoke to the police. I waited until they were done to approach her. "Are you alright Mrs. Hudson?"

She let out a chuckle. "No, dear, unfortunately I'm not. I should be used to it by this point with Sherlock living here, but…knowing that this place isn't safe…"

I could tell that she was upset and I took her arm. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea and we'll speak of other things if it will help you. You don't need this stress."

The older woman nodded and I felt bad for her as I watched the tears slip silently down her face. I turned the light on for her as we entered her own flat. It was a similar layout to Sherlock and John's, so the kitchen was easy to find. I sat her down at the small table Wordlessly, I looked through the drawers, finding a rag. I handed it to her, watching as she wiped at her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry. This is all so overwhelming."

"It's fine," I replied, filling the kettle before putting it onto the cooker. "It's a natural reaction. I wouldn't expect anything less."

"You're a very sweet girl. What was your name again dear?"

"Delilah."

"Delilah. I don't suppose that your parents were big churchgoers?"

"Actually they were," I said, turning to give her a gentle smile, sitting at the table across from her. "My parents took my sister and I every Sunday."

"I used to attend in my younger years. But time does change things. So, how do you know Sherlock and John? They're lovely boys aren't they?"

"Yes, very lovely. They've been so kind to me. I was actually having an asthma attack outside of the flat yesterday and Sherlock happened to spot me. He had an inhaler and allowed me to use it. When they found out that I was homeless-"

"Homeless! How awful!"

I nodded. "Yes, it has been. But when they found out that I was homeless and that I was still sick, they allowed me to spend the night with them, wash my clothes, clean myself up."

"Well, will you be staying for long or was it only for the night?"

"John offered to let me stay for a little longer, although with the apartment getting ransacked, I don't know if I should." I rose when the kettle began to whistle. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little bit. Chatting with you has helped take my mind off of things."

"Well, I'm glad of that." I poured a bit of water into the tea pot that she had sitting on the counter, swirling it around to warm it. "Do you use tea bags or loose leaf?"

"Tea bags, dear. Cabinet behind you next to the cooker. And the milk is in the fridge and the mugs are in the cabinet to your right."

I nodded, grabbing everything I needed. I placed the tea bags in the pot before pouring the hot water over it. I glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was nearly seven o'clock. Where on earth had the day gone?

I prepared the tea, hearing Sherlock speaking to the officers. I could only imagine how that was going. I poured the milk into both mugs before pouring the tea. As I sat down, a knock came at the door, causing both Mrs. Hudson and I to jump.

"Who is it?" My voice was rough and I could hear the fear in it.

"It's me, Delilah. Can you open the door please?"

I opened the door to see John, noting the two police officers flanking him. "Are you here to watch over Mrs. Hudson while I speak to these two gentlemen?"

"Yes, Delilah. They have a few questions for you. They want to know about what we've found."

I stepped out into the hallway, looking up at the two officers. "Well, why don't we go down the hall a bit and talk? I don't want to disturb the landlady any more than we have to."

John disappeared into Mrs. Hudson's flat, closing the door even as the two officers and I walked towards the front door. They both had notepads out and were looking at me with what seemed to be apprehension.

"Can you tell us what happened today?" The one on the right asked, pen poised to take down every word I said.

"Well, I woke up this morning, got ready, and then Dr. Watson and I went to the thrift store to get some clothes for me to wear. We had lunch with his fiancé, Mary, and then-"

"We meant down at the pub. Dr. Watson told us that you all were attacked and held at gunpoint before you managed to escape." The one on the left was now asking. I could tell that he was a bit impatient, but I would take my time.

"Ah, yes. Well, I was going to get to that portion of the story. But, let's skip ahead a bit, shall we? Sherlock, John, and I are working on a case and we were meeting with the informant. I went to go speak with the man and he pulled a gun on me."

"And what about the vial?"

I sighed. "Are you going to continuously interrupt me?"

The officer blushed. "Sorry mum. But it's a matter of utmost importance."

"I'm certain that it is. I lost the vial in the streets on the run."

The two police officers' eyes widened with shock. The one on the right managed to choke out, "You lost it?"

"Aye, I lost it. We were being chased if you'll remember."

"We…erm, we'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

The two men took the stairs two at a time and I sighed, leaning up against the wall. I listened as they spoke to the other men upstairs and five officers came back down. The two I had been speaking with stopped in front of me.

"What did you say your name was mum?"

"Delilah. Delilah McKinley."

They both nodded and one of them scribbled it down in their notebook. "Will you be staying here for a while Mrs. McKinley?"

"Ms. And I suppose I will be if you'll need to question me further."

"More than likely Ms. McKinley. If you have any more information that you can give us, you can stop by the station. Ask for either Officer Lyonel or Officer Sullivan," the one who had been jotting down everything said. "We'll be in touch."

I nodded my head, watching as they left. I saw the door to Mrs. Hudson's open and John stepped out, closing it behind him. "Are they gone?"

"Aye, they're gone." I looked up the stairs. "Sherlock is fairly quiet. Come, let's go upstairs. I owe you all some explanations I believe."

We both went up the stairs, finding Sherlock meditating amongst the papers and overturned furniture. John pressed a finger to his lips and I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. John began to quietly return the room back to its former self as I went to the kitchen to fetch the gun. I dug around underneath the sink, finally coming up with the handgun and the magazine.

"So, where did you hide it?"

I jerked upwards, cracking my head on the cabinet above me. I cursed before turning to see Sherlock standing behind me. "What makes you so certain that I hid it?"

"Because I know that you didn't lose it."

"You were eavesdropping?"

"Well, you were talking very loud and the door was open. So, yes, I was eavesdropping."

I frowned, realizing that having Sherlock around meant that I couldn't keep anything secret. "Yes, I hid it. Help me put the living room back together and then I'll explain everything."

By the time the three of us had finally put everything back, it was nearly nine-thirty. I sat down on the couch, tired, but content. The door was locked and all the windows had been double checked. John and Sherlock both still had their firearms on them. For the moment I felt safe. John sat down in the chair and, to my surprise, Sherlock sat next to me on the couch.

"Now, Ms. Delilah McKinley, you have a lot to explain," Sherlock said. "Let's start with where the vial and the memory stick are hidden."

Without a word, I pulled the gun from the waistband of my pants and the magazine from my pocket. I pulled the slide back, revealing the vial. I dropped it into my hand, careful not to let it fall to the floor. Gently I placed it on the couch between Sherlock and I. Then I unloaded two bullets from the gun before I let the memory stick drop into my hand. I held it up to both Sherlock and John. John looked shocked at how I'd hidden the two items, but Sherlock looked fairly pleased.

"Not bad. And you hid the weapon as well. They searched the entire flat for those items once John opened his mouth about them."

"I was pretty sure that they would. I also knew that if I told them that I'd dropped it, it would keep them out of our hair for at least a few days, enough time to look over the information and have the fluid analyzed."

"W-what…what exactly is in that vial?" John asked. "I'm pretty positive it's nothing nice."

"Oh, it's not. I believe Mr. Aling said that it was a mixture of Ebola, measles, and bubonic plague."

"Impossible."

"Unfortunately not, John," Sherlock replied. "Somehow, they've found a way to suspend the live viruses and bacteria in fluid long enough to unleash them into the public. I've no doubt that they could leave it in liquid form or-"

"Vaporize it into the air. That's what we have the plans for right now on the memory stick. It explains why they want it back so badly. They had several people working on it, one of which is dead."

"How do you know all of this?" John asked. "Be honest with us now. No more lies, no more tricks."

I looked at Sherlock. "Have you done any research yet?"

Sherlock shook his head. "As soon as I found out that there was a meeting set, I left. But I have a feeling that if I typed in your name I would find a lot of information."

"I suppose I'll start at the beginning then. My father's name was Kyle McKinley. He grew up in Ireland and met my mother when she was on holiday. They were nineteen and seventeen respectively. They kept in contact and after four years, my father asked my mother to marry her. She moved to Ireland to be with him and they had a very small wedding." I stopped, twirling the memory stick in my fingers. "In 1983, I was born. Two years after that, my younger sister, Olivia, was born. We stayed in Ireland until I was six years old. That's when my father got a job with the London police department."

"My mother had been homesick, you see, and her father was very ill. My father had been a detective in Ireland since he was twenty-one. So the move from Dublin to London wasn't too much of a leap to make. He was hired on as a homicide detective, given his record with cases in Ireland. I rarely saw my father growing up, and when I did, it was to train in tae kwon do or in guns. My father didn't want any of his girls to be helpless. It was a happy time though. I loved the time I had with him."

"Had?" John asked and I smiled sadly.

"I'm getting to that portion of the story." I glanced at Sherlock. "Any questions so far?"

"No. Please continue."

I nodded. "Well, when America was attacked by terrorists in 2001, my father became part of a special unit with the British government that was focused on taking out terrorists, both homegrown and overseas. He was gone a lot, but when he would come home, he would tell my sister and I stories. I was eighteen, in university, but I didn't know what I wanted to pursue at that time. When my father would tell me stories, I realized I wanted to pursue a career in law enforcement. I came close, instead becoming a paralegal for one of the biggest law firms in London. My father was so proud when I graduated and my sister was the one who began pursuing a career in my father's footsteps."

"What about your mother?" John questioned.

"After she'd had my sister, her father had taken ill. When he passed away, she fell into a deep depression and began to drink. My father and I both tried to get her help, but she was too far gone by the time my father saw the signs. So my father divorced her when I was fifteen and raised my sister and I on his own." I looked down at my hands, taking a deep breath. "December 7th, 2009. I was asleep. I'd been worried about my father, as he'd been undercover for nearly five months and I hadn't heard from him. I hadn't known that he'd come to take Olivia and I away as his cover had been blown. He'd gotten my sister and was on his way to me when they found him." I felt the tears stinging my eyes, the lump forming in my throat. "They…shot him in cold blood, right between the eyes. They dragged my sister out of the car and poured gasoline on her before setting her alight. I lost my closest family members that night and nearly lost my own life."

I fought back the tears, clenching my fists in my lap. I could see it all from the third floor flat I had been renting. I hadn't known at that time that it was my father and sister. I hadn't found out until the police had come to my hospital room after I'd woken up. I touched the scar on my stomach, feeling the phantom pain from the old gunshot wound.

"I hadn't realized that they'd sent someone after me to kill me, not until they'd placed the gun to my stomach and pulled the trigger. My neighbor downstairs heard the commotion and she came up to check on me. She found me bleeding out on my living room floor. Four days later I woke in the hospital to be told that my sister and father had been murdered. That's when the proposition was made that I finish what my father had started. That I track down the terrorists that were going to bring London to its knees."

"So, that's what you've been doing? Tracking them down, helping the police?" John was practically sitting on the edge of his seat. "You aren't homeless?"

I sighed, glancing at the clock, seeing that it was nearly eleven thirty. "I am tired and that is a story for another night. I'd really like to get some sleep if that's alright with the both of you. We can look at the documents in the morning. Perhaps we can even take this vial and get someone to test the samples, so long as they don't mind working with some of the deadliest diseases in the world."

"I've got to go to work tomorrow. I've got loads of appointments," John replied. "But when I get home, we'll continue this conversation."

"That's fine. I know that you both must have many questions for me."

"Yes, that we do," Sherlock said. "Might I see the memory stick? I wish to study it while you're sleeping."

"You know that you need to rest at some point as well, Sherlock."

"I cannot be bothered with sleep when all of London is at stake." I handed him the memory stick, watching as he rose from the couch. "I bid you all a good night and I will see you in the morning Delilah."

With that, he left the room. John and I sat in awkward silence until he too got up from his chair. "Well, I'm off to bed as well. Will you be alright out here in the living room? I know it probably doesn't feel as safe as, say, one of our bedrooms."

I popped the loaded magazine back into the pistol. "I'm fine so long as I have this. I'm…sorry that I lied to you both. I don't have much choice though when I first meet new people. I don't know how well they'll take it or if I can even trust them."

"Given the circumstances, I understand. I can't speak for Sherlock, but hopefully he'll be a bit less…harsh about you and your checkered past." John approached me, kneeling down in front of me. "We'll do everything in our power to help you. But from here on out, you have to be honest with us. Can you promise me that?"

I nodded, feeling the tears touch my eyes, my lower lip trembling. "I…I promise…"

I began to cry and John pulled me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder. "I…I miss them so much…I want my family back…I want my life back…"

"I won't say that I know what you're going through," he murmured in my ear, rubbing my back, trying to soothe me, "but I promise you that things will get better and we will get these horrible people. With Sherlock on the case, we will always get the bad guys. You have to trust me on that. Now, no more tears. We're all going to bed and we'll see each other bright and early for tea."

I wiped my eyes, giving John a watery smile. "If you say so John. You are one of the kindest souls I've ever met."

He blushed, getting to his feet. "See you in the morning Delilah."

John turned the light off on his way out and I laid down on the couch, placing the handgun next to me on the floor within easy reach. I buried my face into the pillow and, for the first time in four years, cried about losing my father and sister.

But soon…soon, I would have my revenge on the bastards who took them from me.