Enola Holmes HIDDEN IRIS'

8 - To attract the sharks

Kindrea's POV:

I stood in front of a single container, placed in the middle of a room built of more containers, "I swear if I have too see another one of these after tonight I will blow it up," I whispered, "This doesn't seem like a trap at all," I sarcastically stated, walking through the makeshift walkway.
Each step brought me closer to the container with 'MRTS 32748 8-1-11' as the Identification number.
8 - H, 1 - A, 11 - K. 'Hello Again, Kindrea'
Does he always have to have a message within every detail?
I rolled my eyes, opening the container, the darkness inside disrupted by the dim light of the moon. I stepped inside, my ankle hitting a trip wire, I stilled, "Shit," I breathed out, looking up to see a blinking red light illuminating the contents within the container. "Fuck!" I slammed the door shut, hoping to contain the blast, and I ran.
My feet pounded on the damp concrete, splashes of water following my trail. I ran. My breathing quickened, able to be heard from a distance. I ran.
BOOM!
My body flew away from the blast, a scream escaping my lips, the impact of crashing into another container winding me, my ribs aching with the harsh contact, I felt the heat of the flames that consumed the surrounding containers, I felt the stinging sensation as my cheek grazed the concrete, I felt my entire being wish for a different, healthier body.
"Fuck," I groaned, my hands pushing my body up so I could stand.
I rested my body against the hard metal I crashed into, biting my lip to suppress the gasps of pain. "Hello, Kindrea," I heard his voice for the first time.
"Tristan Strot," I turned to the male I had been hunting.
He wore a black mask, not allowing me to see his face, I reached for my pistol in its holster, "I wouldn't," Tristan pulled the hammer of his own gun back, "I am sad that our game has to end here, but you are getting to close," he lifted the gun.
BANG!
I flinched back, closing my eyes, a grunt leaving Tristan's lips, "Come on," Sherlock whispered to my shaking form.
I opened my eyes, looking up to see those stupid blue eyes, "Sherlock," I whispered, my hand shaking as he took hold of it.
He turned away, looking back at Tristan, another shot made my ears ring as Sherlock pushed our bodies to the ground, "Fuck!" Sherlock hissed, pressing a hand to his arm where the bullet grazed him.
I pulled Sherlock up, running from the continuous shots, Sherlock falling behind but not out of sight. I crashed into a warm wall, no not a wall, Tewkesbury, "Tewkes?" I scrunch my eyebrows.
"You're alive!" Tewkesbury hugged me.
Another shot echoed through the halls of containers, "Lovely reunion, let's go," Sherlock smiled, pulling me away from the danger.

The five of us sat at the train station, Sherlock going back to the bridge for something.
The sun rose when Sherlock showed up with my box of drawings, drawings of him, "What are you doing with that?" I growled, standing from my seat and snatching the box away.
"Why did you say no?" Sherlock whispered, asking the question he wouldn't let me answer all those years ago.
My eyes met his, the brightness that disappeared lighting up again, I took a deep breath, looking to the ground, "You were just starting your career," I shut my eyes, "I didn't want to hold you back," I answered, "I never wanted you to leave me, Sherlock," I breathed.
Lifting my head and hesitantly opening my eyes again, scared I would see anger in his eyes, instead I only saw understanding, "You were right," Sherlock said, the statement confusing me.
"What?"
"You were right," he smiled, a chuckle leaving him, "You are faster than me in trousers," Sherlock chuckled.
I rolled my eyes, a smile making its way to my features, "Told you!"