Lets Play A Game - Sherlock Fanfiction [Sequel to IBIY]

Chapter fifty eight - Control.

So as you could imagine, the talk with Sherlock and John didn't turn out quite so good. Sherlock mainly just stared at us, with his lips slightly parted in disbelief. He never even spoke to us, just listened. And I felt awkward when standing around him in 221b. Especially sine we wasn't on good terms with each other. However, John just kept cutting in and yelling at us both. He was absolutely fuming.

"Do you know how dangerous that was?!" John said through gritted teeth, nostrils flaring, clenching his fists as he stared at me and Mary. If I was honest, John was the only one who I thought could do something lethal at the moment. Mary sighed.

"Yes." She answered, as if she were bored.

"You could have gotten hurt! You could have gotten killed!"

"Well someone had to do something." She defended, meeting his eyes. "We couldn't just sit here, hoping to track him down. Hoping to run into him on the streets and kill him. If anything, someone should have tried speaking to him!"

Although what me and Mary did was stupid and dangerous, I do not regret it. She was right. We couldn't just wait for something to happen. We could at least talk to the man, and find out what his main goal was. Which we now knew what it was for definite; he wanted to hurt Sherlock.

John paused for a moment and rubbed his eyes stressfully, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. "What do you think of this, Sherlock?"

"It was a ludicrous lack of efficiency. It was a naive move to make."

I scoffed, "You're one to talk about naive moves!"

"It was. I can't believe you would go and meet James Moriarty behind our backs! Let me guess, there were snipers aiming at you both, right? And he wants to hurt me? We already knew this stuff. How could you both have been so damn foolish?"

"You don't get to judge us." I snapped, finally loosing control of my tempter. And now all I wanted to do was to make him feel bad. Make him feel the pain I felt. This wasn't just about the meeting with Moriarty, it was about Sherlock leaving me when I most needed him. "At least we tried to do something. All you guys did was track down a guy who showed me more affection then you managed to do in a year! We had the courage to go and speak to Moriarty, which is more than I could say for you. All this time since Christmas has been wasted doing nothing. You did nothing at all, you procrastinated it off because you were afraid of him! You don't get to judge us for trying, because you can't even bring yourself to try. You're pathetic!"

"Holland--" John noticed Sherlock's stunned expression, and stepped forward to put a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down but I slapped his hand away. I knew that what I was saying was harsh, and yes, maybe not all of it was true. I knew that he had been trying. But I just couldn't bring myself to stop.

"Don't even go there, John!" I retorted, staring at him sternly. "You know what? Just get out. Leave."

He shifted uncomfortably, any trace of anger he had in him at vanished. I knew that he was still upset. Of course he was still upset, but I think he could tell that me and Sherlock needed to talk. So he gently grasped Mary's arm and lead her out of the flat. On the way out, Mary gave me a small smile, but I never returned it. I never even looked her in the eyes. Not that I had a problem with her, I was just so angry with Sherlock right now. I unquestionably wanted to punch Sherlock square in the jaw.

John and Mary left, and the room falls silent. Sherlock just stares at me in incredulity. I had this whole thing planned out in my head. I planned out that I wanted to tell Sherlock how much he hurt me, tell him how wrong it was for him to leave me when I was most vulnerable. But instead I just stared at him for a moment, looking at him as he looked at me. And I just knew he still cared. So I just shook my head and walked towards my room, wanting him to know that things were over. He ended things so I wouldn't get hurt, yet here I was. Me and Sherlock separated and yet I still met up with Moriarty. I'm still drawn in to the danger. So why did it matter if I was with Sherlock or not? He had ended things for no reason, I am still the same person. I am still friends with John and Mary and I am still involved. He had lost me and it was his fault.

"Holly, wait--" He closed his eyes and sighed, but I continued to walk past him until he grabbed my arm, completely stopping me in my tracks. I froze, not saying a word, afraid that I'd lash out again.

"I'm sorry." He says softly, acknowledging the hurt and damage done. I slowly turned around to face him, and he removes his grip from my arm. "Holly, please."

"Please what?" I raise my brows, crossing my arms as I stare at him. I knew he hated apologising, for anything. And I wasn't going to go easy on him.

He shook his head, loss for words. "I--" He paused, meeting my glare. "Go to dinner with me?"

I'm taken aback. I'm shocked. Out of everything, those words managed to fall from him cupid-bow lips. "What?"

"I love you." He admits, finally finding the sense of courage he needed. Everything we were arguing about had vanished. The moment I had with Moriarty was just a memory in the past, and all I cared about was right now, when Sherlock was talking to me. Begging for forgiveness. "I thought I could protect you by ending things, but it didn't work. If we're going to solve this case, then we're going to do it together, where I can ensure your safety. And I know I never put effort into making you happy, but it's going to change now. So please, go to dinner with me?"

I'm left speechless. I really wanted to say no, and a part of me just thought that he was manipulating me. Like he did with most people. But damn, I believe him. I believe him and I loved him. "Okay." I whispered. I know he hated going on dates, but he was offering to push that aside for me. And I appreciated that.

His nodded slowly, "Okay." He let out, happy with my answer. "Tomorrow evening?"

I nodded. "Okay."

And with that, I slowly turned my heels and walked towards my bedroom, leaving it as that. I hated how easily I forgave him. Actually, I wasn't even sure if I forgave Sherlock. But he was trying, and I couldn't ask for anything more.

I opened my bedroom door, and as I did so I felt my phone vibrate, indicating that I had a text. I shut my bedroom door as I got inside and leaned against it, closing my eyes and exhaling deeply. Tonight's events were just... crazy. That was the first word that came to mind. Crazy.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the text message I had from an unknown ID. It read:

Meet me at 6 pm in the same building as last time; I know what you're thinking, moonlight shining through the window beautifully, and they say romance is dead. In case you're thinking about not showing up, you should probably know the consequences. At the risk of sounding mellow dramatic; if you don't come out and play with me, I'll have to take out one of your pieces, permanently. Hope to see you soon Holland.

- JM :)