--In a world full of goldfish, I Found You-- A Sherlock X Reader Fanfiction

Pt 4

"I'm going to text you an address in the next 15 minutes John, when you get it, call Scotland Yard and get them to send some officers and an ambulance please." I requested, promptly closing the laptop I had been tracking Sherlock's location on and heading for the door.

"Wait (y/n) where are you going, what's happening?" He enquired frantically, he was probably alarmed by the need for an ambulance.

"John please, I know we  only met yesturday, but you have to trust me on this." I told him plainly before descending the stairs and quickly heading to my own apartment to grad my shotgun from one of my many unpacked cardboard boxes.

As I waited on the pavement to hail a taxi, I noticed a small man arrive at my side.

"I do trust you, that's why I'm coming with you." He smiled at me, a smile I reciprocated before we both entered a cab and began to inform the driver of ever changing directions.

Time skip:

We finally match up with the phone's location which turned out to be Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Strange place for a serial killers fifth murder, but who am I to judge, they're the expert of course.

"You take the left I'll go right." I commanded John, pointing to the adjacent corridors of the building. The ex army doctor nodded submissivly, I guess he was used to taking orders.

Half running through the corridors all I could think about is how much I cared about finding Sherlock. I  never 'cared' about people. I mena, I often felt concern for a family members welfare or a close friends happiness but never had a felt a deeply sick feeling in my stomach regarding the life of a virtual stranger.

I checked through the windows of every classroom and I found nothing, leading me to meet with John empty handed.

We walked towards each other and I could tell in his left eye that John success had been no more than mine. That was until he spotted something in a room across the courtyard garden of the institution. He ran towards the nearest window with me following beindhim from the other end.

I'm not certain what scene he saw, but whatteve it was made his hand reach instinctively for his right trouser pocket. He was reaching for a gun.

I was only six meters away but I knew in these situation milliseconds can be the difference between life and death.

"John!" I shouted, throwing my gun at him.

John had barely caught the weapon when he fired it through the window and I presumed into a body.

My presumptions were confirmed when I arrived next to John only to see a vaguely geriatric man falling to the ground, the left side of his sweater slowing being dyed with crimson blood which was really on both mine and John's hands.

Timeskip:

We walking out of the building and into a xanadu of uniformed officers and flashing lights.

In the middle of which we found Sherlock stubbornly refusing an orange shock blanket whilst, what seemed to be, making a deduction for Lestrade.

He stopped almost immediately after spotting me and John.

"So that was the guy who killed the pink lady and the three others?" John asked, obnoxiously nonchalantly, causing me to smirk.

"Nice shot." Sherlock told him with a small smile tugging at the corners of his slender lips.

Once we got slightly further away from the congregation of emergency services vehicles and personnel, we were approached by a man why, by the way his thumb started to twitch slightly, John clearly recognised, and not in a positive manner.