A Day For Love - Johnlock

Choice For Sherlock

There was a knock at the door shortly after our embrace. Mrs Hudson, trying to refrain from squealing about our relationship in the seriousness of the situation, went to answer it. A few moments of tense silence, then a cry of pain. Sherlock was on his feet at once. So was I. I raced after him down the stairs but our landlady had gone. Sherlock opened the front door and began to look down the street. I was about to go after him when I felt the cold muzzle of a gun on my back. Right between the shoulder blades.
"Don't make a sound," a croaky voice came by my ear. "Come with me."
I was led through the house to the back door by the bins, unable to shout for Sherlock or make any kind of sign. There was van waiting for us. I saw Mrs Hudson being carried unconscious into the back of it. I knew what was coming but I still couldn't react as a hand with chloroform on a tissue came and pressed it against my mouth and nose. All I could do was let it take me into blackness. Was it my mind already failing, or could I hear my boyfriend's voice shouting my name?

"Hello, Doctor Watson."
I opened my eyes blearily, wincing at the lights on the ceiling. Then it came back to me. Kidnapped. Chloroformed. Kitty Riley. Assassin. Mycroft Missing. Just fantastic.
"Hello, Kitty," I answered, trying to sit up because I was on the cold floor. My hands were bound as well as my feet. I managed to sit up and saw the journalist sitting on a plastic chair in front of me. Beside her was Mycroft who was looking very embarrassed to be here.
"You're the assassin?" I was surprised.
"That was a rouse," Kitty laughed. "It worked too. No, I wanted to bring Sherlock down myself. None of this secret agent nonsense. Now, all we have to do is wait until he gets here."
"Why do you want to kill him?" I demanded. Mycroft gave a little snort. He truly was in a bad temper.
"After Moriarty shot himself, Sherlock faked his death, the 'truth' all came out. I was being accused of helping Moriarty. More nonsense! I was taken in like all the others. It was good evidence; of course I would publish my findings. But it all went downhill from there. I was fired. My life destroyed. No one let me do an article about you. They didn't trust me, no one did. It's not fair! And now I can show him why."
At that moment, Sherlock entered. Coat tails flapping, collar turned up. Hair tousled from the wind. Eyes silently furious.
"Hello, Detective Holmes," said Kitty happily. "Have a seat and I will ask you one simple question. Which one of these two men do you wish to live?"