SEVEN

the dream

All was still in 221B.

It was 4 AM, and Sherlock was thinking. About Moriarty, about Alana, and about that video.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

He had to do more research.

He pulled John's laptop towards him (his was in the bedroom, much too far) and quickly cracked John's new passcode. It was STOPBLOODYCRACKINGTHECODE. He smirked, and changed it to westillneedmilkjohn. He opened up a web page and started researching telekinesis.

The more he scanned the Internet, the more he was convinced she wasn't real. Well, the girl, maybe, but her "powers"? No. He closed his eyes, put his fingers beneath his chin, and began to think about where Moriarty could be hiding.

The click of the keys on John's laptop opened his eyes quickly. He wasn't touching them, but… they were typing.

H

E

L

P

Sherlock's mind was whirling. Who needed help? How were they doing this? A virus of some kind?

Not a virus, me. Alana, the computer typed.

What? Did she know what he was thinking, too? Please. Moriarty was going a bit overboard with this whole "magical girl" thing.

Yes. I know what you're thinking. Can you help me?

He started to type back, when –

No. Don't type. Easier to read your mind. M's got me and my brother. He's making me hurt people.

Like John? If she had really done that, there was no way he would help her.

Please? I'm sorry about Mr. Watson, I had to. M would have killed my brother if I didn't. Is he okay?

Hmmph. He still thought it was a virus. That, or he was hallucinating from lack of sleep.

I'll prove it.

Right now John is dreaming. He's dreaming of Moriarty at the pool except I was there too and I pulled the gun out of your hands and you both died… oh, he's awake now.

Please help.

I'll do it again tomorrow, if you'd like to talk, but I'm in a red brick building near Cambridgeshire, I think.

Wait he's coming don't think about me, please –

Here the message cut off, probably because Moriarty had come into the room or something. Sherlock rolled his eyes. He still didn't believe her. Definitely a virus.

Still, the virus had said not to think about the virus, so he turned his attention back to researching telepathy. He stored their exchange in his Mind Palace so he wouldn't think about it.

It had to be a trick.

John woke up, panting. He had had a bad dream. In it, he was at the pool again, and so was Moriarty and Sherlock, but so was that girl. Alana. At a gesture from Moriarty, she pulled the gun from Sherlock's hands.

Moriarty had smiled, and the snipers had fired.

But before the bullet had hit him, he had awoken.

He thought he heard Sherlock typing downstairs. That repetitive clicking was soothing, and he wanted to fall back asleep, but his head hurt too much.

How? How had she done that? A sixteen-year old beating up a war veteran… with books. John was a bit ashamed of that fact.

But was she really telekinetic? He knew what he saw… or thought he did. A floating, deadly girl. She could have pulled the knives out of the wall and killed him.

So why hadn't she?

Moriarty. That was the only reason. She was kidnapped by him (Sherlock had showed her the file) as was her brother, probably. Moriarty hadn't wanted him dead. If he had, he would be.

The typing stopped, and on that pleasant thought, John slowly went back to sleep.

"Hello hello hello, sweetie! You're awake! Just so you know, that was amazing, what you did yesterday."

Moriarty beamed as he walked into her cell.

She had been communicating with Sherlock – finally. It had taken all of her strength, plus some she didn't know she had to keep her brainwaves low while typing on the laptop while getting into Sherlock's mind.

At least he'd know she wasn't a computer virus when John woke up.

"Now, tell me that didn't feel awesome. You beat up a soldier! I bet you could take out everyone outside this door if I didn't have your brother."

"It didn't," Alana said.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't feel good. Beating up an honourable man, a soldier? A good man? No. It didn't feel good at all."

Moriarty sneered. "Well, what would you know?"

He turned on his heel and walked out.

Alana let out a shaky breath.

She wasn't sure if Sherlock had stopped thinking about their exchange and if Moriarty had asked her to go in his mind, she wasn't sure what would have happened.

She'd try to talk to him again tomorrow.

Hopefully, he'd believe she was real this time.

But with Sherlock Holmes, nothing ever went as planned.

A/N: Hey all! Thanks so much for reading and following/favouriting! Special awesomeness points to OfTardisesAngelsandScarves, who not only has a cool name, but is also a really cool reviewer. Thanks!

So… Tense Sherlock not believing in Alana! What'll happen next? And exactly how long will it take before Alana beats up Moriarty? And what'll happen to Oliver?

Only time will tell… Hee hee!

* evil laugh *