She saw nothing.
But heard something.
In the distance, somewhere she heard someone roar, "I told you not to touch her," and then a couple gun shots.
Waking up and looking at the ceiling she found herself to be in a abandoned house not too far from her home, she could tell by the weather outside which could be seen from the tiny window in front of her.
Looking at her face in a cracked mirror as she got up, she saw a bruise on her eye, that's about it. Not a big deal.
Didn't mean she wasn't in pain though.
Hearing slow footsteps coming from obviously just cleaned shoes, Charlotte stood still.
And then she saw him.
"Hello," he greeted cheerfully, "my name is Jim."
She didn't respond, just stared at him.
Westwood suit just like in her parent's closet.
She always wondered where her parents got Westwood suits. It wasn't like they were rich like Jim.
Unless he gave it to them-
No.
It couldn't be true.
This man.
The one that kidnapped her couldn't be-
But he could.
Brown hair, brown eyes. Looked just like her mother.
Even the hint of an accent was similar.
Charlotte clenched her jaw.
"You know Sherlock should really teach you some manners."
"You're a murderer," she whispered, "that's how you know him. And a psychopath too."
"Oh dear," he laughed, "hate to break it to you but so is Sherlock...and Mycroft but he isn't a psychopath."
He paused getting a gun out.
"Now," he began, "enough with the chit chat-"
She quickly grabbed the gun out of his hands facing him with it.
"Oh oh oh!"
He then giggled in delight.
"Then I guess we'll have another murderer in the family."
"You really are adorable. Thinking you can shoot me or any of my assassins with that. Really."
She then slowly put the gun to her head.
"Oh Uncle," she sighed, "how can I miss this," she asked motioning the gun toward her head once again.
He frowned.
"Oh my god," she heard someone whisper.
"Westwood suit just like my fathers said he got it from my mother's brother said I was just like him which is probably why they hate me so much," she explained smirking while holding the gun tighter.
"You didn't kidnap me to scare me or Sherlock you did it for yourself," she whispered again, "caring is not an advantage dear uncle."
Suddenly two men attacked Moriarty from behind while Lestrade shot the assassin.
"Alright Charlotte put the gun down," one of the men said soothingly.
"Thanks John."
Another man grinned in the shadows. Clearly Sherlock.
About to pass the gun to John, she heard a gunshot and dropped it.
She then collapsed.
"You really didn't think I just had one did you," Moriarty grinned while being handcuffed.
"Charlotte," a voice yelled, "can you hear me?! CHARLOTTE."
Then everything went black once again.
Until-
"You just got shot, a hole is going to rip through you, what do you do first," Mary asked circling her in the no longer dark room. Lights escaping through the window.
"Fall," she breathed out.
"Already did that," Mycroft corrected.
"Uhhh,"
"Narrow it down," Mycroft clued.
"Narrow. It. Down."
"Feel."
"Exactly," another voice chipped in. Molly turned adding, "so you need control. Don't look down."
Charlotte then looked down to see herself bleeding profusely on her shoulder.
She then ran breathing heavily as she went up the stairs until she was stopped by none other than-
"She said not to look you idiot. You really are an idiot. A daft dimbo actually," Moriarty grinned like the Cheshire.
"Shut up get out of my mind palace."
"I can't. You put me here," he replied revealing a door. Opening the door she saw her old bedroom back in her old home.
"He is right you know," Hans said sitting on her bed, "we can't leave. And none of us will ever leave your stupid little brain unfortunately," he added as her brothers and sisters all appeared in her room surrounding her.
She started to breathe in and out faster and faster until she needed to grab something.
Running out she screamed in pain.
Until Redbeard came running toward her.
"Redbeard," she cooed as a pool of blood was forming around her.
Unable to ignore the pool he soon disappeared too.
"Think think," she whispered, "I can't die yet."
"She's brilliant," a low voice said.
Turning to the police station she found Sherlock talking to the police.
"Sher!"
"Oh hello love," he whispered cupping her face in his hands. She soon found herself putting her bloody hands on top of his as he kissed her on the forehead.
"Control," she whispered, "control."
And soon everything was bright once again.
"CHARLOTTE CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
Charlotte found herself on the ambulance, the howls of the sirens echoing in her head causing her to have a headache.
"Of course," she whispered blood coming out of her mouth.
"Oh god oh god oh god," Sherlock muttered trying not to panic. I mean his little girl only got shot right?! Putting his slim fingers on his head he went into his mind palace.
"Put pressure on that wound," John's voice echoed in his brain.
Quickly he jumped towards Charlotte putting his scarf on the wound pressing downwards.
She yelled once again in pain. Until her eyes started to fall once again.
"Keep your eyes fixed on me," he demanded hitting her face a little.
"Control control," she whispered over and over again. She really wasn't in the mood to die today.
"Remember when I showed you Mary and John's wedding song?"
Charlotte nodded while a tear went down her face.
"Hum it," he demanded trying to distract her.
She did all the way to the hospital.
Hearing snaps of cameras from the paparazzi and yelling from the doctors Charlotte tried her best to keep herself awake.
"Sher," she wheezed.
"Yes?"
"Am I just like him?"
"Who," he asked pretending to not know what she was talking about.
She then gave him a look.
"No," he responded finally, "not at all."
"He's the reason they hate me you know," she whispered again, more tears falling down her eyes, "if I wasn't so stupid I could of had a good relationship with them."
"You weren't being stupid," he said coldly while she went in the emergency room, "you were being you."
"Same thing."
"No," he paused not really wanting to have a chat about her original parents, "NOT the same thing. And besides, you wouldn't have met me," he responded letting go of the wound as she went into the double door of surgery.
And for once in her life, she embraced the darkness.
