*Wow! Two in one day! I'm on a roll. And you all might get another chapter tomorrow, depending on how I feel. I will say as a sort of forewarning, I've never been to London (though I want to) and everything in this next chapter is what I've learned from typing things into search engines. So if it's wrong, please don't get too angry! I did as much research as I could and took guesses, so I apologize in advance if it's wrong. But I hope you all enjoy it!*

Chapter 6: Fireworks for London

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down," my sister sang and I laughed, running under her and our friend Lionel's arms. "London Bridge is falling down, my dear lady!"

They caught me on the second loop and we all broke into fits of giggles. We all lay down in the grass and I looked at Olivia, seeing myself in her. We were the best of friends, the only friend the other needed. I grabbed her hand, watching as she was no longer a child, but the young woman I'd known before she'd died.

"Have you solved it yet?"

"No. I'm trying Olivia, I really am. Sherlock and I both are."

"Are you? Or are you swooning over him like a lovesick puppy?"

"Livvy, that's not very nice," I said, hurt by her words. "I want to capture these bastards, you know that. I want revenge for you and Dad. I miss you both so much and while putting them behind bars won't bring you back, it will at least make it so they can't tear another family apart."

"I don't think you're trying hard enough. The answer has been in front of you the entire time. Stop being blind and do something this time."

"I'm trying!" I shouted, sitting up. "God damn it, I'm trying Livvy."

"Not hard enough. Clock's ticking. Are you going to save people or are you going to watch them burn? Going to watch them die like you watched Dad and I die? Are you?"

I began to cry, scrambling away as she burst into flames. She began to crawl after me, reaching out towards me. "Are you going to fail again? Are you going to be a murderer?"

"I'm not a murderer. I'm not!"

"But you are. You may as well have lit the match that killed me. It's your fault, Del. All your fault!"

"No!" I sobbed, jerking upright. I looked around, seeing Sherlock sitting in the chair where he'd been when I'd gone to bed earlier. He merely glanced over at me before returning to the laptop and the notes I'd taken the other day.

"What time is it?"

"Two-thirty."

I sighed, laying back down, wiping the tears from my eyes. "Sorry."

"For?"

"Shouting."

Sherlock shrugged. "It didn't bother me any and Watson is over at Mary's for the night. Are you going back to sleep?"

"I was going to try, but I doubt it."

The man in the chair was quiet, staring at the screen. "Maybe you can see something I'm missing. Tomorrow is the day that this is going to happen and I can't quite figure it out. It's like the answer is right there, trapped in my mind." Sherlock sighed and I could tell he was frustrated. "I need to figure this out."

"Let me see my notes," I said, getting off the couch to sit next to Sherlock on the floor. "I'll help you until I get tired again."

He and I worked in silence by the glow of the computer. Ever since Christmas, I had been doing my best to avoid him. He'd come into the living room right before I'd gone to sleep, muttering something about a change of scenery. I'd gone to sleep with my back to him, ignoring his muttering. He had been more than happy to ignore me as well and I couldn't figure out if I was hurt by his acting like the kiss had never happened or relieved.

I looked over the paper, humming as I did. Sherlock kept shooting me glares, but I ignored him. I read it over and over for nearly an hour when the consulting detective finally sighed, turning to look at me. "What in God's name are you humming?"

"Have you never played London Bridge?" I asked him, setting the paper. "No, you probably wouldn't have. It's a game that children play and-"

"I know what it is," Sherlock snapped. "Why are you humming it?"

"I…dreamed it. I think. It's a bit hazy now. But it's definitely stuck in my head." I decided to annoy him a bit for snapping at me. "London bridge is falling down, falling down, fa-"

His hand covered my mouth and my eyes widened in surprise. There was a glitter of happiness and triumph in his eyes and he snatched my notes up from the floor. "Yes. Yes, it all fits! Of course!"

"What? What are you-?"

"The names Delilah. The names are the key! Your stupid rhyme…I love your stupid rhyme."

"Okay, I need you to slow down and explain to me what's going on."

He shoved the papers in my face. "Say the names out loud. Think about it. I know you're smart enough to figure this out. We've got planning to do. I'm certain I know the time of these fireworks as well."

"Mr. T. Oeur. It sounds like…it can't be." I looked at the rest of the names, sounding them out in my head. "Of course. The answer was in front of our faces the entire time. Tower Bridge is falling down. That's what their names mean sounded out. But the time? How do you know when?"

"Because when are the fireworks going to go off? Delilah, dear, please use your brain a bit more. I know you're better than that."

"Was that a compliment from you Mr. Holmes?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm assuming you're thinking that it's going to be midnight or just before."

"When everyone is out and about and will be using the bridge, yes. They want the biggest impact, the biggest shock factor."

"What are we going to do then? How do we stop them?"

"Simple, my dear. We defuse the bomb."

I felt a shiver run down my spine. "I guess we'd better get started studying then."

Nine hours later and I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking my fourth cup of tea. I was exhausted. Sherlock and I had stayed up studying bombs and how to defuse them. John had finally come home and Sherlock and I had both said hello to him before returning to our research. He'd checked my leg before shaking his head, heading to his room, no doubt going to type up an entry for his blog. I'd dozed off at some point, waking up with my head against Sherlock's leg. Now we were both sitting at the table, drinking tea and not saying a word.

"Should we tell John?" I asked in a low voice, looking around to make sure that he wasn't around.

"He'll only go to the authorities and try to stop us. The best thing we can do is keep him here or at least keep him away from the bridge. If we can't get it stopped-"

"If we can't get it stopped we're both dead, as well as the hundred or so people on that bridge trying to get home," I finished, staring into my mug. "I want these people dead, Sherlock. All of them. But I also don't want innocent people to get hurt in the process."

"That's what happens when we deal with people like this. Innocent people get hurt. You can't let that halt you from stopping the terrorists. If I let a few innocent deaths stop me from saving the greater good, then I would never be able to make it in this line of work." He paused before taking my hand. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

I felt my mouth go dry and I pulled my hand away from his. "What, Sherlock?"

"Well, once we've stopped them from blowing up the bridge and capture them, would you care to go to the shooting range again with me? Maybe get some fish and chips afterwards?"

"I…think we should keep our relationship strictly business, Sherlock. Once this case is solved and the terrorists taken down, I plan on leaving. I'll try to get my job as a paralegal once again and maybe even get my own flat." I watched as his eyes grew distant and he pulled his hands back to his lap. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. Christmas was a mistake. A bit too much wine I think."

"Yes. Yes, of course. What was I thinking? Perhaps we should tell John what's going on." Sherlock rose from the kitchen table quickly, heading to John's room.

I sat at the kitchen table, sighing heavily. The rain was pouring outside and I looked out to the gloomy grey sky of London. I could only hope that we were right in telling John what we'd found out. Sherlock came back with the good doctor a few minutes later and I could feel that there was something more going on than I knew about. John sat down next to me and Sherlock stood in the doorway.

"Sherlock says that you all have something to tell me?"

"Aye…that we do."

For the next forty five minutes I explained the entire situation to John, Sherlock only chiming in if he felt that I had missed something important. John kept quiet as we explained what was going on, but his expression grew darker and darker.

"I'm coming with you two," John said.

"No!" Sherlock and I both shouted in unison.

"And why the bloody hell not?"

"You and Mary need to keep safe," I said simply. "I on the other hand have nothing to lose. I don't know Sherlock's reasoning, but mine is that if anyone is going to defuse those explosives it should be me. I have no family left."

"And what about your friends? Jesus Delilah, you act as though no one on this earth cares about you."

"I know that you all do. But, if anyone is going to get blown up, it should be me. Sherlock, I should do this alone and you know it."

"No. It's my case. You brought it to me and I'm going to see it to the end."

I sighed. "Sherlock, your friends have already lost you once. Don't let them lose you again. They love you. Your family loves you. There's no need for you to get blown up after having just come back."

"I'm going with you."

I sighed, looking to John. "Do you want to keep your friend alive or do you want to watch him die?"

"I want to keep him alive of course," John said, leaning back in his chair to stare at me. "What sort of question is that?"

"The kind that I have to ask. God forgive me."

I was spinning quickly on the balls of my feet, striking up and into Sherlock's jaw. His eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed to the floor. John was shooting to his feet, going to Sherlock's side. "What in the bloody hell did you do that for?!"

"You want to keep your friend alive, right? I'm doing that for you. Thank you, John, for everything." I was exiting the kitchen before John could register everything that had happened. "Tell Mary I said thank you and that I'm sorry I couldn't see her wedding."

I grabbed my pack and the memory stick as well as my pistol. I tucked the gun into the waistband of my sweatpants while sliding my shoes onto my feet. I had about two more minutes to get out of the flat before Sherlock regained consciousness. I froze when I heard the sound of someone pulling the slide on a pistol back.

"John, he will be fine. I am saving your friend's life and all of you a lot of heartbreak. Let me go."

"You hurt him," John growled, but I could hear his voice waver. "Give us the memory stick and get out."

"I'm not going to do that John. Put a bullet in me if you need to, but I'm doing this for your own good. I'm not having an innocent man die on my watch and I'm not putting you or Mrs. Hudson through hell again." I turned to look at him, my hands in the air. "I've stayed with you for a while now. Do you think I would hurt him if I wasn't helping?"

I watched as John's hands trembled and he finally lowered the gun. I let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry John."

"Go. Before he wakes. I'll do my best to stop him from following you."

I nodded, tucking the memory stick in my shoe and slinging my pack onto my back before flinging the door open. I looked down at Sherlock's unconscious form on the kitchen floor. "I'm so sorry my friend."

I ran down the stairs of the flat, exiting quickly out onto the street. I needed to find a place to hole up before the action started, one where neither Sherlock nor my enemies would be able to find me. I had the perfect place in mind. I swiped a watch as I began to head in the direction of Tower Bridge.

11:45. I'd been watching everyone on that bridge come and go for a few hours. I'd been hiding in a sewer drain, doing my best to keep my leg out of the muck. I'd moved the memory stick to my bra so that it wouldn't get damaged. Every wail of a siren had set me on edge. Had John called the authorities? Had Sherlock? I knew it was getting close to the time, but I didn't want to head out onto the bridge until I was sure that they'd all left to watch the chaos.

I crawled out of the hole, making sure that the cap on my head was staying put. I'd dirtied my face up a bit, messed up my hair. I wanted to make sure I looked like a wandering beggar instead of the woman that had been at the pub with one Mr. F. Aling. I began to make my way towards the bridge, heading out onto the walkway. As I did so, I realized that there wasn't much foot traffic out on the bridge. Everyone was out celebrating at the pubs. That was a good thing.

As I made it to the middle of the bridge, my hair began to stand on end. Something wasn't right. A knot began to tie itself in the pit of my belly. A hand roughly grabbed my arm and I whirled around, fist pulled back. They grabbed my other arm and I began to struggle to break free.

"Haven't you hit me enough already today?"

"Sherlock! What are you-?"

"Doing here? Trying to save you from dying. You fool. They knew that you'd come to stop them. They planned this all out."

"What?" I whispered, horrified. "How did you figure that out?"

"Another transcript. I downloaded the information from the memory stick onto my computer. It was a hand-written message. On it was that stupid children's song and at the bottom was written 'She will come.'"

"And come she did!" A man shouted. "Hello Delilah my dear. Long time no see."

Sherlock and I both turned to see a man standing in the middle of the bridge. I looked back to see that cars had blocked off our exit. The same was true for the other side of the bridge. I cursed. How could I have been so foolish?

"Agent Cormack, how good to see you again!" I shouted, going to step out into the middle of bridge, Sherlock right behind me. "Its been too long. About what, two years? How's that scar treating you?"

The man touched the scar on the side of his face. "Yes, about two years. How about your bullet wound? Has that healed?"

I grabbed the gun from the waistband of my pants, pointing it at him. "Aye it's healed. But I can guarantee you yours won't."

"Now now Delilah, is that any way to talk to an old friend? Especially an old friend who has something that you want." He motioned with his hand and I watched as two men began to bring a struggling figure forward, a black hood over their head. "Delilah, I know that we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe we can make amends. You see, I have something that you want. Something that you lost."

The struggling figure was brought to stand by Agent Cormack and he pulled the hood from off of their head. Sherlock had to catch me as my knees gave out. "Livvy?"

"Delilah? Delilah! Help me, please! Just give them what they want!" She was struggling against the men that held her and I struggled to keep my footing. "Delilah, please, I don't want to be with these mad men anymore. I want to go home!"

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "Please, don't hurt her. Please don't. I'll do anything."

"Delilah," Sherlock's voice was in my ear now. "Something isn't right about this. Let go of the emotion."

"That's my sister damn it!" I shouted at the man, eyes blazing. "I thought she was dead and now I can right the wrongs and you're not going to fucking stop me!"

"You're playing a dangerous game, Delilah. Think about this. I know you're bright. Turn off the emotions before you do something foolish." His voice was sharp, like the crack of a whip as it cut through my growing hysteria. "Why would they keep her alive this long? Think about it!"

I bit my lip, feeling confused and conflicted. "Why…why did you keep her alive this long? I thought she was dead."

"Del, please, don't ask any questions. Just get me out of here! Get me out of here and give them the memory stick so we can go home!"

A shudder ran down my spine. Something wasn't right. "Livvy…how did you know about the memory stick?"

"I…I overheard them in the car."

"She's lying." Sherlock drew his own weapon now, pointing it at my sister. "L, is it?"

I watched as my sister smiled, stepping away from the two men. The ropes fell to the ground and she began slow clapping. "Well well well, I was wondering when the great Sherlock Holmes would join the fun. Hello dear sister. Have you missed me?"

I suddenly felt nauseous. "Y-you? You're L? But…our father…"

"Our father was a foolish man who had the chance to do something great," my sister snarled, drawing her own weapon, pointing it at Sherlock. "He threw it all away for the greater good. The greater good of what? Of fools and swine? Of greedy politicians and injustice? We are visionaries Delilah, looking to create a race of intelligent people. You could join us. You and Sherlock. Together we would be unstoppable."

"You had our father killed!" I shouted, the tears now streaming down my face even as I raised my gun. "You destroyed our family! You murdered him!"

"Now now sister. I had to do what was necessary. It's too bad that you can't see past your love for him. He was never there for us. He never took care of us the way he should have. All he did was train us to become human weapons. And you squandered your talents, becoming a paralegal, getting your own place. You would have been an amazing addition to my team."

"You bitch," I growled. "You fucking bitch. I grieved for you. I loved you, I protected you."

"Protected me from what? From our mother? You were as bad as our father, more pathetic even, trying to keep our broken little family together. And for what purpose? I found my family in my friends. The people mother said were the underbelly of London society. They became everything I needed and everything you all weren't." She turned the barrel of the gun onto me. "Good-bye sister."

The sound of helicopters startled all of us and I watched as three rose up on either side. I could tell by the yellow tops that they were metropolitan police helicopters. A familiar voice piped up on a megaphone.

"This is the London Police Department. Please drop your weapons and come quietly. We have you all surrounded," Detective Inspector Lestrade shouted.

"You told the authorities?" I muttered to Sherlock, refusing to drop my weapon.

"I had to. John insisted."

What happened next was a blur of motion. I watched as my sister pointed her gun at one of the helicopters. The sound of gunfire came from all directions and I felt Sherlock grabbing my hand. We began to run when I felt the heat of the explosion on my back. Sherlock and I went flying through the air, hitting the ground hard. I scrambled to my feet, helping Sherlock up. The bridge was groaning beneath our feet and I looked up to see four men standing in front of the cars still blocking our way. I fired the pistol, watching as one of them dropped. They turned their attention away from the police helicopters to us, firing their weapons. Sherlock and I managed to duck behind a pillar out of the way of the gun fire.

"Sherlock! The bridge!" I cried.

We both looked to see the bridge collapsing, a giant crack racing towards us. I looked around, trying to see if there was anything that we could do. It was either get shot or drown at this point. I grabbed Sherlock's phone from his pocket, finding Lestrade's number even as the bridge groaned again.

"This had better be goddamn important Sherlock!" He shouted into the phone.

"It is. I need you to get boats out on the river as soon as possible. Sherlock and I are pinned down and the bridge is collapsing. We're going to have to jump."

"Who is this?"

"Explanations later, no time. Just tell me you can have boats out on the water."

"Two minutes or less."

"Great." I hung up the call. "Sherlock, please tell me that you can swim?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not a skill that I found useful."

"Well, I hope you can learn quickly because we don't have any other choice." The bridge was collapsing five feet from where we were standing. "I'm going to shoot at them. You jump for one of the cables and slide down it until you get down to the water. We only have to survive in it until police rescue comes. Count of three. One, two, three!"

I leaned out around the corner, taking aim at the men firing at us. I took out one, the police helicopter taking out another. I could see Sherlock behind me, making a running leap, grabbing one of the cables. He was sliding down too quickly though and I could see the panic in his eyes. I was running after him, tucking my hands into the sleeves of my jacket so that I wouldn't hurt my hands.

I reached down, barely getting my grip even as I grabbed Sherlock's hand. He looked up at me, sheer terror in his eyes as we dangled thirty feet above the rushing water below. I could see the far-off lights of the police boats. I looked up, watching as the concrete above us began to crumble.

"Sherlock, do you trust me?" I shouted down to him over the gunfire.

"It doesn't look like I have much choice, does it?" He shouted back.

"When I let go, try to make yourself as vertical as possible when entering the water. Make sure your knees are slightly bent or else you may break your legs. Keep your arms tucked in at your side. Can you do that?"

"Yes. When are we going to drop?"

"Now!"

I let go of the cable and we both began to plummet towards the water. I looked up to see Olivia standing at the edge, gun aimed at us. If a bullet was going to hit me, it would hit me. I closed my eyes, letting my head drop, arms tucked in at my sides.

Hitting the water was like running into a brick wall. It stunned me and the cold of the water didn't help. I felt a hand clawing at my ankle and I grabbed for Sherlock, kicking upwards against the current. I struggled with him, realizing how much dead weight he actually was. I felt my lungs burning, my head spinning. His movements were slowing and I knew that I had to get us to the surface or we were both going to die at the bottom of the Thames.

The current was awful, my worst enemy in this case. But my head managed to break the surface and I coughed and spluttered, somehow dragging Sherlock's limp form up beside me. His body was still, his face pale, lips blue. I brushed the hair from his face, kicking against the current to keep us afloat, my arms wrapped underneath his, keeping his head cradled against my chest. A spotlight swung onto us and I felt hands grabbing me.

"Help him," I croaked. "He's not breathing, help him!"

"Miss, you need to calm down," one of the officers said, holding me back from going to Sherlock as they dragged him onto the boat.

"No I will not calm down! He's not breathing!"

"We'll be to the paramedics shortly. They'll be able to resuscitate him there."

"What about now?! Jesus, let me through!" I shoved the officer out of the way, going to kneel beside Sherlock's still form. "Oh God, I've got no clue."

'Keeping calm is the first thing you need to do,' my father's voice said in my head. 'If you're panicked you can't help them. First thing's first, check for a pulse and for breathing.'

I pressed two fingers to Sherlock's neck, finding no pulse there. I tilted his head back, listening for breathing and finding nothing. 'What now?'

'Two breaths. Tilt their head back, pinch their nose with one hand, using your other to open their mouth. Wrap your lips around theirs and breathe until you see their chest rise. If you don't see this, re-position their head and make certain that their airway isn't blocked.'

I did that, watching as Sherlock's chest rose and fell. The officers on board the boat were watching even as we raced to shore where the multi-colored lights were winking in and out, signaling our salvation. I looked up at the men on the boat. "Aren't any of you going to help?"

"Well, we're trying to get you to shore as quickly as possible. And we have to stay on guard until we're out of bullet range."

"Some help you are."

'Stop arguing and start chest compressions,' my father's voice snapped in my mind. 'The more time you waste, the less likely he is to survive. Hands between the nipples, press hard and fast. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Go!'

I placed my hands in the center of Sherlock's chest, pressing down, watching as water bubbled up from between his blue lips. I pressed hard and fast, ignoring the cracking and popping that I was hearing. I gave him two more breaths before continuing compressions. The shore was looming closer. I could almost see the faces of the paramedics. I gave him two more breaths even as we began to pull up to the shore. I began compressions again.

"You are not going to die on me Sherlock. I'm not allowing it!"

I leaned down to give him two more breaths. I could hear John on the shore, letting out a cry of fear. "Let me through! Let me through, I'm a doctor! God damn it, let me through!"

I began another round of compressions even as John made his way down the embankment to our boat, leaping aboard. "How long has he been down?"

"I don't know, five minutes at most?"

John took over compressions. "Two more breaths."

I did as I was told, watching as the paramedics slowly made their way down the embankment. As John gave more compressions, I leaned down, feeling the tears slipping down my face. It didn't matter that I was cold, that my entire body was sore. I pressed my forehead to Sherlock's temple.

"Please don't die on me Sherlock. I'm so sorry. So sorry. Come back," I whispered in his ear. "We can't lose you. I can't lose you."

"Two breaths."

I tilted Sherlock's head back, giving him a breath. I watched as his chest rose and fell. I gave him the second and as his chest began to fall, he gave a weak cough. John rolled him onto his side, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe that worked."

"I can't either," I replied, watching as Sherlock took a large gasp for air. "Sherlock…can you hear me?"

"Of….course…." he coughed out and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You stubborn bastard. I told you not to come."

There was no reply and I watched as an unconscious yet breathing Sherlock was loaded onto a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance. John helped me to my feet and I felt my legs give out, pain rocketing through me. The darkness was creeping into my vision even as John laid me down on the bottom of the boat.

"Stay with me Delilah. Come on now girl, stay with me. I need a medic over here!"

The world faded around me and I sunk into the realm of unconsciousness, the last thing floating through my mind the image of my sister pointing a gun at me.

"Delilah, wake up."

I stirred, hearing a familiar and grating beeping in my ears. I groaned, not wanting to move. A hand touched my shoulder and my eyes fluttered open. I turned my head to see Sherlock sitting next to me. "Am I dead?"

Sherlock chuckled. "No, not dead. In a hospital, but far from dead. Glad to see you've finally woken up. I'm surprised you weren't awake before I was. Then again, sleep seems to be more suited for you than me."

"So, I'm not dead and neither are you?"

"Nope. Your quick thinking kept me alive and breathing. John says I have you to thank for saving my life."

"I didn't do much of anything really. John did most of the hard work."

"From what he says, the officers on that boat weren't doing anything and you were doing all of the work despite your broken ribs and concussion."

"Broken- are you serious?"

Sherlock nodded. "Very. You're not the only one. I've got a couple of cracked ribs from yours and John's chest compressions."

I blushed. "It was all John, really."

He took my hand and I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest. "Delilah, I know differently. Don't lie to me. I can tell when you are."

"Why are you being so nice?"

"Because I'm trying to thank you and you're making it very difficult for me," Sherlock said exasperatedly. "I don't say it often so would you please let me get it out instead of trying to say it was someone else?"

I was taken aback by his brusqueness, but nodded. "If that's what you need to say then say it."

Sherlock inched forward in his chair, wincing only slightly. "Delilah McKinley, I wish to thank you for what you did. Saving my life on that bridge and in that boat was no easy feat. Surviving the water of the Thames was also no easy feat. I owe you."

I shook my head, smiling and taking his hand. "Sherlock, you owe me nothing. All I want is for us to solve this case and to stop my sister. Even though we're both fairly injured, I think we can still stop it."

"Are you sure? I don't think you're ready for another confrontation with her."

"Maybe not yet," I replied. "But I think I can learn from you to make me ready, to turn off my emotions in regard to her. If you'd be willing to teach me of course."

Sherlock seemed to ponder this before giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be willing to consider it if you'll teach me how to swim once it doesn't hurt to breathe anymore."

I smiled at him. "It's a deal."

Despite everything that had happened, the broken ribs, discovering my sister was alive, I was at peace. And I felt that it would remain that way so long as Sherlock was by my side. I looked up at him, finding his blue-green eyes staring into my face.

"What is it?"

"Do you want to grab some fish and chips when they let you out of here?"

"Sure Sherlock. Whatever you'd like to do."

"Alright then. Let me see if I can hunt up that damnable doctor so we can get going."

Sherlock left the room and I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. I had a feeling that things were about to be very different in my life now that Sherlock was going to be around. And for some reason, I didn't mind that. I didn't mind that at all.