ATTENTION. TO KEEP THIS STORY ACCURATE TO CANON, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL TAKE TWO YEARS TO COME OUT.
LOVE, MARK GATISS AND STEVEN MOFFAT'S PROTEGE,
JESS
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"Sorry, boys... and pretty lady!" Jim called, entering the room once more. His very voice making Calvin whimper,Sherlock's eyes turning to her. She needed medication or, at the very least, to be out of here.
"I'm soo... changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness!" Jim exclaimed, mirth filling his voice. "You can't be allowed to continue."
"You just can't." Jim laughed softly. "I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." Sherlock frowned, not turning to look at Moriarty yet.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours." he said, turning and aiming the gun at Moriarty... only to have it slip down and aim at the two vests lying on the ground. Jim looked unperturbed, John was breathing hard, and Calvin's whimpers echoed across the pool.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed at Moriarty. Their eyes met, Jim's completely at ease and Sherlock's serious and full of intense dislike.
His finger just tightened on the trigger when music started to play.
Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Sherlock's brow furrowed and he looked around to find the source of the music. Jim stood still for a moment before sighing.
"Do you mind if I get that?" he asked. John stared at him in disbelief and slight irritation.
Sherlock stared at him. "Go ahead, please." he welcomed, eyes narrowed. "You've got the rest of your life." Jim pulled out his phone, checking the ID before answering.
"Hello." Moriarty said, eyebrows knitted together in aggravation at the interruption. "Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He mouthed 'sorry' to Sherlock, turning away slightly. Sherlock, in turn, mouthed 'oh, it's fine' back at him.
He was silent for a moment, turning around and taking a few steps as he listened to whoever was on the other line.
"SAY THAT AGAIN." he suddenly yeled, making Calvin scream into her arms. John turned to touch her knee, trying to reassure her. She was still shaking violently and sobs hiccuped throughout the room. John had never seen his friend so vulnerable. He didn't like it. Sherlock sent a concerned glance, knowing that he had to get Calvin out of here so she could recover.
"Say that again," Moriarty started, "And know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you." Sherlock glanced back at John in confusion and slight alarm.
"Wait." Jim commanded, putting his finger over the microphone and taking a few steps closer to Sherlock, who cocked the gun.
"Sorry..." h said. "Wrong day to die."
"No. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock inquired.
Jim glanced down at the phone in his hand. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." he promised, beginning to walk away. "Oh, and take care of that one, will you? She seems to be hysterical." He motioned with his chin to Calvin, huddled against the wall with John's hand on her leg.
He turned fully and headed the other direction. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." he clicked his fingers as he headed out the door, and the red sniper dots disappeared from the three's faces and bodies completely.
"What happened there?" John asked, still breathing hard.
"Someone changed his mind..." Sherlock answer softly, still pointing the gun around the room, expecting foul play even now. "The question is... who." He stopped to ponder the question for a moment, before he spotted Calvin, still shaking, next to John.
"We need to get her home." he said urgently, dropping to his knees again and handing the gun to John.
"Can she walk?" John asked, pocketing the gun and turning to look at the panicking woman.
"Of course not John, she's experiencing a violent panic attack. I suspect a panic disorder, as she said this is not her first panic attack." he explained, smoothing back her hair to encourage her to look up at him. When she did, very slowly, meeting his blue-green eyes with her own icy blue ones. He grasped her chin gently to get a better look.
"Calvin, can you hear me?" he asked her, noting the vacant look in her eyes. He knew that panic attacks often resulted in one losing their sense of self, having an out-of-body experience, or losing touch with reality.
Slowly, she nodded, though her eyes were slightly unfocused. He nodded, moving slowly to get his arm under her legs and around her back, lifting her up. Her arms immediately went around his neck, needing something to cling on to, and buried her face in his chest.
"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock..." she whispered through her wracking sobs and trembling voice as he strode out of the building having John call for Lestrade for a car. They couldn't take her in a cab like this.
He glanced down at her, only mildly irritated that her tears were staining his suit. "Is he gone, Sherlock?" she continued, barely able to form words.
"Yes, he's gone." he replied softly.
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Calvin woke up much later, only in her undergarments, in what she remembered to be Sherlock's bed. Her head pounded with the remnants of a horrible migraine. She must have passed out. She sat up, glancing at the windows to see only artificial light from the streetlights pouring in. She'd slept a whole day.
As the night - the night with Moriarty - demanded to be recognized in her mind, Calvin groaned, laying back down and dragging the silk sheets over her head in mortification. She'd had a panic attack - a horrible, violent panic attack - right in front of Sherlock and John.
As she remembered the bomb strapped to her chest her breathing became rapid and shallow again, she popped her head up and had to take the time to calm herself down before history repeated itself. She turned on her side to come face-to-face with Sherlock, who had been laying in bed next to her the whole time.
"Motherf-!" she yelled, scrambling back and falling off the bed in her alarm. "What the -... you were -... would you stop that." She growled from the floor at a very amused Sherlock, who was fighting back a grin at her expense.
"This is my bed." he retorted. Calvin got to her feet shakily, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Doesn't mean you have to sleep in it when I am half naked." she responded haughtily, crossing her arms to cover her half-naked chest, though Sherlock was obviously not interested in her anatomy.
"I do recall that you begged me to stay with you last night, Miss. Baker." he answered, smirking at her in an only slightly mocking fashion. Calvin was even more mortified, but managed to keep it off of her face.
"Yeah, well, I didn't know what I was saying, did I? Having a violent panic attack for hours, and all." Calvin hissed, pursing her lips.
Sherlock continued, paying no mind to her argument. "And then, you spend most of the night in my arms." he told her. In truth, he had been uncomfortable with the contact throughout the night with unconscious and still-panicking Calvin, but he made do. He needed to sleep off the shock of the night before, anyway.
"Traumatic experience. If it had been John I would have snuggled with John." Calvin argued, running her hands nervously through her hair. Sherlock stood up, still slightly smirking. He stepped towards her, causing her to retreat a few steps.
"Yes, but you specifically asked for me." he reminded her, enjoying the rise that he was able to get out of hr in this post-panic attack state. Right now, she was unable to think clearly and hide her emotions from him with her clever guise of aloof and witty remarks. Sherlock knew he was seeing more of the 'real' Calvin.
Calvin huffed, picking up a discarded purple button-down of Sherlock's off the floor.
"What are you doing now?" he asked as she buttoned the middle buttons.
"I don't know where my clothes are and I'd appreciate it if at least one of you doesn't see me in my skivvies today." Calvin growled, fumbling with the small buttons. The purple shirt went almost to her knees, due to the dramatic height difference between her and Sherlock.
"Who do you think helped me get you out of your clothes in the first place?" Sherlock said, obviously still trying to bait her. She glared at him, marching out of the room to find John cooking something in the kitchen.
"Oh good, you're awake. Do you want some -... why are you wearing Sherlock's shirt like that?" John asked suspiciously, eyeing her mussed hair with a critical eye. Calvin's bad mood turned on him.
"Because I don't know where my clothes are and I'd rather not walk around in my panties, thank you, John Watson." Calvin snapped. "Why did you remove my clothes, anyway."
"You were having trouble breathing and we were worried that your jeans and shirt were constricting you." John answered, looking like a dear in the headlights. "I'm sorry, but that's the honest truth."
"So how long have you had this panic disorder, Calvin?" Sherlock interrupted, throwing on his robe as he entered the living room area.
"What?" Calvin demanded, distracted. "Oh. That. I don't have a disorder, Sherlock, I was in a traumatic situation in which a bomb was strapped to my chest, snipers pointed at my head, and a mad man figuratively pulling the trigger. Please forgive me for not being able to handle that gracefully."
"But you said that you've had these attacks before." John offered, buttering a piece of bread.
"I lived in a high-stress environment in my childhood, I've had them once or twice before." she replied easily, her cool, collected self coming back now. Sherlock eyed her suspiciously.
"How long did I have the attack, though?"
"Five hours. We couldn't calm you down for five hours." John answered, chewing on the bread he'd just buttered. "When we finally did, you passed out with Sherlock in his room and slept, apparently, all day."
"Uh, sorry you had to do that." Calvin mumbled, and John shrugged.
"It's fine. We wanted to help you." he answered with a genuine smile.
Calvin stared at him for a long while. That was not the answer she was expecting. Well, she knew John was kind, but no one had ever been that ready to help her with her panic attacks before.
Or, perhaps, she had never let anyone help her before. At least not after her parents. When she was younger and began to develop the disorder, her parents loathed the fact that she was a nervous child and refused to help her when she had one of her attacks. Her siblings were similar, often teasing her about her nervous and skittish nature.
They were embarrassed of her.
The nervous behavior stemmed from the fact that her mother always wore high-heeled shoes around the house. Heidi Baker was an intense, preofessional, and very pristine person, and when you heard those heels slowly coming up the stairs and down the hall to your bedroom... well, it was enough to set a person on edge. Especially a young, impressionable child like Diana. All of her siblings had grown up with it, as well, and they developped no such anxiety from it. They viewed Diana as a freak growing up, an outcast, weak. There was no weakness in the Baker household.
So she shut it down. She convinced herself that if she just hid it from everyone, ignored the fact that she needed medication and possibly therapy for her anxiety, that she would become normal, just like everyone else in her family. Everyone else in the world. The way her family viewed it made it seem like she was the only one in existence with the problem.
So she hid. She hid something that defined her, letting it control her further with her denial. Calvin shut it down, buried it deep, and only allowed herself to let go when she was alone in the house, hidden away in her closet until it passed.
After a while, it became void. She refused to ever let it show, even to herself. Calvin was convinced that nobody could accept her for what she was because nobody ever had.
"And I'm sorry for making you share your bed, Sherlock." Calvin said with her usual self-assured smirk on her face. Sherlock blinked before shrugging.
"It won't become a regular thing."he answered, opening the newspaper that he had missed from that morning.
"Well, I'm gonna go home." Calvin said, heading for the door. "Get some painting done. Oh, I missed work today."
"Oh, yeah, they called... you've been sacked. Missed too many days of work, apparently." John told her sheepishly. Calvin stared at him for a moment before shrugging.
"Ah, the struggles of being involved with the great Sherlock Holmes and his psychopath boyfriends." Calvin sighed, not seeming to care as much as she should. "I have enough money as it is, anyway. Besides, this frees up my schedule to help you two more on cases."
Sherlock looked up sharply, as if the idea appalled him. Calvin winked and grinned. "What? You owe me. I was almost killed yesterday." she grinned wider as hehuffed at her. "Don't seem too appalled, Mr. Holmes, I promise it won't require you sleeping near me again." She waved and headed down the stairs to her own flat.
"Don't you get paint on that shirt!" Sherlock yelled angrily, straightening his paper violently.
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Whoa fast update! And a good one, too! Look at that fluff! It's adorable. I really do like how Calvin is getting into her niche with Sherlock and John, with John genuinely caring about her and Sherlock also caring, but hating her at the same time.
There's chocolate cake calling my name in the kitchen so I'll keep this brief.
I really hope you liked this chapter! I did. And since there really wasn't much of Calvin in her vulnerable state, Sherlock will eventually probably flashback to that somewhere in the future. So yay!
But yeah please let me know what you thought! The last chapter got me eight more followers! I now have 115 followers. Thanks, you sweethearts! I'm glad you all like my meager attempts at writing Sherlock romance. Or lack of romance. There isn't much romance. BECAUSE IT'LL TAKE A BIT GOD. I want it to happen as much, if not MOOORREEE, than you guys do. But it's slow-going because 1. Sherlock isn't that fond of Calvin 2. Calvin nor Sherlock do relationships and 3. Do you really think Sherlock would 'fall' for someone quickly? No. No he would not.
Okay, I hope your day is going swimmingly! I have to go do AP summer homework now whilst eating chocolate cake! Don't forget to review and let me know how I'm doing! Ciao!
Jess