The Undefined Criminal - A Sherlock Fanfic

Friends on the Other Side

I never thought I'd actually see this guy, like, in the flesh. Moriarty is really as intimidating as John depicts him in his blog. The way he's staring at us, it's like he's staring at an old friend, that you've always despised.       

       The crowed of terrified rich people continued to spread around the ballroom. Moriarty nodded to Charles who proceeded to fire more shots into the air. People crouched down to avoid getting shot. They followed suit, so they don't draw attention to themselves. All three of us were mesmerized by their presence. My mind snaps back, back to the pain. I clutch my side and hunch over, while I attempt to get back on my feet. Sherlock noticed, and grabs my arm to stabilize me. Since no shots were fired after awhile, the guests began to stand and continue their rampages around the massive room.

        "Where's Lestraude?" I ask through gritted teeth. "We need a plan to get out of here, now!"

       "I know, I know," he replied.

       "No, you don't understand! It's you they're after!"

        "Me? Why would they want to kill me?"

        "Oh, I can think of a couple reasons," John sighed.

        "Not the time, John!" Sherlock and I say in unison.

       We frantically search around the room for Lestraude. I spot him manning a door on the opposite side of the room. "There he is!" I point to him.

       Sherlock and John grab my arms and carry me through the crowd, my feet desperately trying to keep up. We push our way to the other side of the room, until someone grabs hold of Sherlock. He recoils in reaction and let's go of my arm. Unprepared for the sudden loss of balance, I fail to get stable footing and fall to the ground. I drag John down with me as I hit the marble floor. The world slows, as I lift my head from the hard marble. John stays on his knees for a few seconds, to get his bearings. I see Sherlock's feet slide on the floor, but keep their balance. The figure that grabbed him comes into my blurry vision. I make out Charles's facial features. He steps forward and grabs hold of Sherlock, who punched him square in the face. He flinches, and punches back in a matter of seconds. Sherlock attempts to hit him again, but Charles grabs his shoulders and kicks him in the stomach. All this is happening, and I can't pick myself up to help him. John stumbles to his feet, and charges right to Charles. He catches him off guard, and they both tumble to the ground. John kneels on top of him, and starts punching. My eyes have trouble staying in focus. People bump into one another, trying not to get crossed with one of us. Sherlock lays, wheezing, about two meters away, with his back facing me. I begin to army crawl over to him. The stab wound in my side feels way worse, I'm losing too much blood. At this rate, I've got at least an hour. I'm just close enough to touch Sherlock's back when something starts dragging me back. The feeling of someone grabbing me fills my body. I frantically rub my hands around the floor, searching for something to grab on to. I'm too weak to say anything, my mouth only grunts and gasps for breath. The mysterious force dragging me away links their arms under my shoulders, only my legs are free. I kick my legs out, to no avail. John, growing weaker by the second, still stands up to Charles. Sherlock begins to recover, with an elbow propping himself up. I start to muster up all my strength I have left. "Sher-Sherlock!" I manage to scream.

       He whips his head around. His eyes widen. He begins scrambling to his feet. The figure must have noticed, I felt the floor slide faster underneath me. Charles catches on too, he punches John square in the head, and he falls to the ground. He makes his way towards Sherlock, and there's nothing I can do. Charles grabs him by the collar, and knees him in the chest again. Sherlock tumbles to the ground, but immediately begins to pick himself back up. My unnecessary escort drags me to a series of stairs at the edge of the ballroom floor. I kick my legs out, trying to link my foot under a step. It's painful, but I manage to catch myself on a step. The figure behind me tugs on my shoulders to get me to move, but I hold my grip. Sherlock manages to get Charles on the ground and continues over to me. "Shit! On to plan B," The figure said under its breath.