Chapter 7: A Face From The Past
Sherlock had solved all of Moriarty's puzzles. He had solved the case of Emily's brother's death, he had solved the case of her father's disappearance through Janus cars, he had solved the case of the painting Emily had written her final paper on at school, and finally, he had procured the missile plans that he would trade for her. And now he was here, at the pool.
John was beside him, with Emily on the line, Sherlock would want no one else with a gun at his side that the loyal soldier John Watson.
"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present," Sherlock said, looking around the seemingly empty pool. "A deal's a deal. Where's Emily?"
There was a moment of silence before a voice spoke, "I gave you my number. I thought you might call." There was a long pause, "Oh well, Emily has kept me great company."
Sherlock looked towards the door as it opened, and his breath caught in his throat. There she was, in front of him for the first time in two years. She looked a bit like a ghost. She was wearing a loose, flowing white dress, her skin was extremely pale, and she was trembling as she walked towards them.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket... or are you just glad to see us?" Jim asked with a grin. Jim continued to narrate, but all Sherlock could do was stop himself from running towards her. "Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point." Jim paused from his monologue as suddenly a sniper dot appeared over Emily's heart. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist you see."
Sherlock spoke for the first time, "Dear Jim, will you please fix it for me to help me disappear to South America? Dear Jim, will you please fix it for me to fake an old painting? Dear Jim, will you please fix it for me to kill my bully?"
John took the moment to look over the girl, she seemed alright, very thin, but alright.
Jim grinned, "Just-so!"
Sherlock took a breath, "I have the missile plans you wanted, now give me Emily."
Jim took a few steps forwards and reached out his hand. Sherlock placed the USB key in it.
"Ah, the missile plans... Boring!" Jim called, throwing the stick into the pool. "I could've gotten those anywhere."
Suddenly two more red dots appeared, both on John and Sherlock's head. Emily knew, now was the time to do something. Quickly, she pulled a scalpel from her dress and within a moment she had it at Jim's throat.
"Let them go, now." It was the first time Sherlock had heard her speak since that night. Her voice was rough and cold, but he supposed she was holding a knife to someone's throat.
Jim chuckled, "Darling, I don't know where you got that scalpel from, but I'm impressed. Also," Jim's tone changed to be much darker, "If you don't take a step back and give me that scalpel right now, my sniper is going to shoot your only friend in the head... One... Two-" Emily stepped back, "Smart girl, now give it to me."
Sherlock watched with a horrified expression as Moriarty grabbed her arm as she reached it out to him, grabbed the scalpel from her hand and sliced across her wrist.
Emily screamed and fell backwards, John instinctively took a step forward. "Don't even try it doctor Watson." Blood soon covered the front of her white dress. Her left hand frantically tried to stop the blood from pouring out, but it wasn't any use. Moriarty's cut was precise, he knew exactly what he was doing. SHe would bleed to death in a matter of minutes if someone didn't do something.
"What do you want?!" Sherlock shouted.
"I want to burn you, burn the heart out of you..." He paused and thought, "But not today." Jim left the pool. Neither John nor Sherlock moved a muscle until he had completely left and the red dots had disappeared.
"Sh-sh-Sherlock-" Emily croaked out between sobs. John and Sherlock ran to her side. John quickly ripped off a piece of her dress and wrapped it tightly around her wrist, but the blood still poured from the wound.
"Emily, I'm right here alright. Just-just try to stay calm," Sherlock assured, he himself trying desperately not to panic.
"Sherlock, I can't- She needs a hospital, we need help," John said.
Sherlock reached into his pocket, "Quick." He handed John his phone, John quickly got up and dialled a number, presumably Lestrade, who could organize immediate help faster than 999.
He turned back to Emily, she was breathing faster, and she felt cold.
"Please Emily, stay with me."
"I'm always with you," She spoke shakily, "Always." She gripped his hand.
"No, you don't understand, there's so much I need to tell you... You can't..."
"I don't want to." Sherlock looked at her, tears were rolling from her bright eyes down her freckled cheeks, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine tear fell from his eye.
John quickly came back to Emily's side, "Two minutes, they'll be two minutes."
Sherlock looked at John, and then he knew... two minutes was too long. For the average person, the same wound would've taken about ten minutes to reach a fatal level, but Emily had just woken up from a two-year long sleep. Her cardiovascular system was much weaker than that of a regular person. It had only been two minutes already, but they all knew that she only had a minute left.
"Sherlock... You should... say what you need to say," John said. He was looking into the eyes of a man who he had been convinced had very few if any, emotions and John realized just how wrong he was about the whole thing.
Sherlock brushed some of Emily's hair out of her face and kissed her on her forehead. "I'm so sorry Emily."
Emily smiled as much as she could, and between quick, shallow breaths she responded, "I wouldn't have had it any other way Sherlock."
Suddenly Greg burst in, followed by medics. Sherlock's eyes whipped towards them.
Quickly she was taken from his grasp, but he knew she was in safe hands. He just hoped they were fast enough.