James Moriarty - The Devil's Descendant

Chapter 12

Troubled girl with a troubled mind, echoing and bellowing, so hollow inside. Her heart was gold, now turned to obsidian, black as night, beating herself into oblivion. 

John had removed the bullet within no time, saving her life with ease. After seeing so many injuries of a similar nature, he expected the unexpected that normal doctors would be unable to anticipate and understand. 

Every now and again she cried out in agony when he sowed up the wound gouged in her side, she was unable to comprehend the pain she was in with the bullet in her lower abdomen, clutching her hand to it was not going to help her anymore. 

"How long left?" she howled in agony. A lone wolf of which she had no control over, ready o hunt for her next set of prey, having the ability to devour every last piece of it.

"It's out," John removed the bullet, placing it onto a piece of tissue. "You are very lucky it didn't break into several pieces when it entered."

John continued working away at her wound as best as he could, but the lack of medical equipment to help him in salvaging the wound was diabolical, let alone useful. He had at least hoped he could do all that he was able before he sent her away to get medical attention.

When Sherlock came up the stairs, his phone in hand, he slid it into his pocket after he had paraded it in front of everyone to show he had just gotten off of the phone.

"Lestrade isn't coming,"

"Good," Aella smiled to herself, wiping the sweat from her forehead. James just wiped away her hands with anti-bacterial wipes to remove her blood. "I think you need to know what happened when I left the house. When I got shot," she looked up at the ceiling, counting the bullet holes.

"I did half of those," Sherlock took her other hand, cleaning out of the blood. "I like to shoot the walls when I think, a habitual motion I cannot seem to stop doing."

"Or annoying me with." John piped in, moving around so Sherlock had easy access to her hand. 

All Aella could do was laugh at the comical nature of the two of them. It was unthinkable that two very different people had the ability to find common ground and be friends. Depending on the situation they were faced with, this was one they never had seen coming from day one.

"Who did the other half of the bullet holes?"

As she strained her head to see who looked guilty enough of doing those holes, her attention fixed on her dad who was avoiding her eyes, even though it wasn't necessarily a crime. For Aella, she liked the sarcastic head turns of her father, it made her laugh and feel comfortable to be open. 

Instead of pressing on what she already figured out, she knew somewhere inside of her that telling the truth about what happened and the reason behind it would be of greater importance in her life, as opposed to lying and keeping things well hidden.

"I know Sherlock would find out eventually, but I figured you would get more out of me if I was to tell you what happened. In particular, why it had happened,"

"Go on," James pressed the issue further, wanting to know why someone had done this to her.

"It was before I met my dad for the first time that I realised something I had never noticed before. Alina was in love with someone I had never even met before," she choked on her words as though they were almost too shocking to be true. "And then I met dad, and my whole world changed when I understood who it was Alina was in love with."

Sherlock kneeled beside her, wiping the blood off of her arms and by her neck where she had grabbed for support. "Who was she in love with? And, more to the point, you?"

"If it were easy to say, Sherlock, I would have come out with it already. Yet, it seems to me it should be much easier than they all make it out to be, right?"

"Who makes it easy to come out with?"

"Alina Holmes, of course!" she chuckled to herself, rubbing her eyes with a free hand, glaring at the walls. "She accepted her love for him sooner than she had processed and told me. Then I cannot even say it to all of you!"

"You can tell us," John pushed Sherlock out of the way, taking her hand, rubbing his thumb on the top of her hand. "I know with all these men around, a man who has just become your dad in so short a period of time, it's bound to be hard. But, if we don't know we cannot help you. This is in your best interest. Rib the plaster off quickly. It makes it far easier."

As he looked at Aella, he realised how much she was struggling to say something with all these men around her. It was particularly difficult since they would never understand. 

"Perhaps Mrs Hudson can offer some more comfort for her, she is a woman too. Moriarty, Sherlock, leave and go and get Mrs Hudson, she will be better off with me and Mrs Hudson." 

Even though Moriarty wanted to know, he knew he was fighting a losing battler staying to try and understand what was happening. Instead of hugging her as if it were their final goodbyes, he left her with a nod to let her know he would be outside. That would be easier that way.

Sherlock left with him, allowing John some time to understand for himself what it was she didn't want them to ever know. 

"Did you see what they did? What they put on the billboards across London?"

"I was considering getting some of those emails," she laughed, lying back on the ground with her hands across her chest, glaring into the abyss of darkness in the holes on the ceiling. "Sebastian Moran." 

Coming straight out with it, John was caught unaware of her telling him.

"What did you just say?" he took his words carefully, unsure as to what to say.

"Sebastian Moran. The one we both love. You have met him, more than once,"

"Really?" he was so surprised by her answer to the question they had wanted an answer to, especially since he had never expected her to tell him the answer.

"I ripped the plaster off. I never want dad to know, he would crazy. Imagine if he knew his daughter was in love with his right-hand man"

"The question is, does he love you, or Alina?"

Her eyes drifted from the conversation, her lips no longer moving. Making a massive bang on the wooden panels, it was suddenly comforted by the carpet. She had fainted, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. John closed her eyelids over with his fingers so she would not look so strange. 

On his watch, she collapsed. 

"Aella!" 

Love is powerful just like death,

It hurts another when you awaken to its wrath,

So cruel and so much torture makes it even worse for you,

No wonder the vows conclude with 'I do'.