Fight for Me

Chapter 90

John emerged from his shower, bathrobe tied around his body and towel hung over his shoulder. Passing Sherlock, who was focusing intently on an experiment, he heard Sherlock's text alert go off.

"That's your phone," John stated as he passed by, noticing the hung dummy in the living room but not really fazed by it.

"Mmm, keeps doing that," Sherlock replied, not looking up from his microscope.

Having to refrain from rolling his eyes at Sherlock childishness, John settled in his chair, picking up the day's paper. Not sparing the dummy a second glance, he asked Sherlock, "so did you just talk to him for a really long time?"

"Oh, Henry Fishguard never committed suicide. Bow Street runners missed everything."

"Pressing case, is it?"

"They're all pressing till they're solved," Sherlock replied, turning his attention back to the microscope.

"Where's Lydia?"

"Out getting the shopping."

"And you didn't go with her?" John questioned, feeling a bit bad for Lydia who had to do such a menial task alone when Sherlock was clearly bored out of his wits back at the flat.

Sherlock glanced over at his friend in confusion as he asked, "no, why should I? I have little interest in doing something like that."

"I don't know, maybe because she's your girlfriend and it would be nice not just leaving her to do all of the work."

"I've been busy."

"Yes, busy solving crimes from the Victorian era. I'm sure she's simply thrilled about that," John replied sarcastically, turning the page of the newspaper.

Sherlock fell silent, returning his attention to the microscope. But now he wondered if he was supposed to go to the shops with Lydia, despite having little interest in it himself. They had been together for months now and he only ever went shopping with her if she needed to pick something up on the way back from a date. She didn't seem to mind, but perhaps she simply wasn't expressing it.

He tried to shake his head clear of those thoughts, hoping to finish up his experiment before she returned to the flat. He was working on his last few slides when she arrived back at the flat, bags of shopping in her hand. John quickly rose from his seat to help her put everything away and Sherlock remained working, becoming a bit of an obstacle that Lydia and John had to work around.

Lydia frowned as she heard another text come from Sherlock's phone, placing the box of pasta in her hand down on the counter so she could get over to see what message Sherlock had received. He had a habit of not answering his phone it seemed, which led to very upset people, usually Greg who had been trying to call him in for a case.

She nearly dropped her phone when she read the message, her entire body shutting down. It couldn't be real, it just couldn't. She had to have been trapped in one of her nightmares.

But it wasn't a nightmare, at least not in the sense that it was separate from reality. Moriarty was back and moving the first piece of his carefully crafted game.

"Sherlock," Lydia spoke, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She didn't dare turn around and face him, she didn't want him to see just how scared she was.

"Not now I'm busy," he replied, clearly not catching how her voice had turned hollow in a desperate attempt to keep it steady.

John, however, noticed it as well as registering how her body had become rigid. Glancing over to his friend, still wrapped up in his own world, John urged him, "Sherlock."

"Not now," the detective repeated with a bit more annoyance this time. He was almost done, he didn't need these distractions.

"He's back," Lydia finally spoke, dropping the phone in front of Sherlock.

This managed to get his attention, causing him to pick up his mobile from the table and open the message.

Come and play.
Tower Hill.
Jim Moriarty x.

Beneath the text was a picture of a rose with only ten petals left, confirming their suspicion that Moriarty had been behind the roses the entire time. Sherlock's face hardened as he looked at his phone and John placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder, hoping to help calm her.

She jumped as Sherlock's phone began to ring, half expecting it to be Moriarty on the other end. She watched as Sherlock brought the phone up to his ear, listening for a while before nodding and promising to be right there.

"Lestrade's got him," he vaguely explained as he got up from his seat at the table.

"Got who?" John inquired, remaining by Lydia's side despite his friend pulling on his coat.

"Moriarty."

...

Lydia remained in the back of the room as they watched the CCTV footage of Moriarty breaking through the glass to get to the Crown Jewels. Sherlock and Lestrade discussed how he had done it, something about a diamond, but Lydia wasn't really paying much attention. Her thoughts had shifted back to the rose, wondering what they meant.

Surely they were some sort of threat, perhaps counting down to their deaths. But would it just be Lydia who was killed? Just Sherlock? Both of them? Them and John? Was it even signaling their deaths at all, or something bigger?

Lydia was pulled out of her thoughts by Sherlock dragging her out of the room by her arm, despite John's protests. She moved mechanically, allowing Sherlock to lead her wherever he desired. The world had become little more than a blur, Lydia left having to put her trust in Sherlock that he would get them back home safely.

He held her close to him throughout the cab ride, rubbing his thumb along the side of her hand in hopes that she would find it reassuring. She snuggled closer to him, using his familiar smell to ground her.

"What do you think his plan is?" She asked him weakly, staring at their joined hands.

Sherlock sighed, "I have no idea, but whatever it is, I will not let him hurt you, I promise."

-

(A/N): We're inching closer to the end of this! Which means Moriarty getting to play with lots of emotions! I hope you enjoyed this slightly shorter chapter!