"Hello boys. And you, Charlotte Hudson." Mary stated with a blank expression.
The unexpected silence hung in the air, giving Mary time to glance at and study each face to assess their thoughts. John reflected frustration, probably from seeing his ex-wife and finding out about Sherlock with Lottie. The detective had his ever-present façade covering as much as he could about his feelings towards what was happening. The blonde girl scrunched her lips to the side, clearly expressing her discomfort at Mary knowing her name and probably just about everything else about her.
"You lot expect me to shoot you to death, correct?" The gun-wielder asked, strolling along the length of the room.
"Well, you've got a gun and you're supposed to kill us so...yup." Lottie shrugged.
"Brave girl, I think you should be the one to go." Mary commented.
"Wait, you're only going to kill one of us?" John questioned.
"Yeah, it's a sort of form of torture. Two of you suffer over the loss of another." She explained.
"Of course." The detective whispered with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
"Now, my job becomes figuring out just how to cause the most combined damage possible. Moriarty said he would've done it himself but thought I'd do a relatively good job of it since I know these two quite well. Criminals like him are constantly occupied with so much havoc-wreaking to organize." Mary explained.
"Alright, just shoot me then. He's my rival and it's easiest for him to just rid of me now and take over the world." Sherlock boldly suggested.
"No, darling. I think he'd like to play with you a bit more." Her tone hissed with an incredibly cat-like manner.
She circled a bit and shifted her views from each person, back and forth. It was a tactic to raise anxiety in the normal human being since they'd feel uncomfortable or threatened by the eye contact. Yet again, she was dealing with a high-functioning sociopath, his military doctor assistant, and the daughter of a former exotic dancer whose husband ran a drug cartel. None of those could really be classified under normality. The strategy was failing, getting neutral reactions from the two men and a judgemental, yet questioning, look from Lottie.
"Are you a bit deranged or something? You keep walking around in circles." The younger woman remarked.
Mary shot her a glare in response.
"Sorry, just thought maybe there was something wrong since you're feet keep doing the same thing over and over and ove-"
"Shut it, or I kill you now." Mary growled, holding the gun up to the underside of her chin threateningly.
"You probably would've ended up doing that sooner or later. Might as well get this over with." Lottie peered directly at the murderous woman.
The trigger was beginning to be pulled back in a dramatically slow motion and Lottie's confidence remained ever-present. John even slightly gasped in surprise of the girl's fearlessness. Sherlock somehow had remained calm throughout the moment. There was a click that echoed when the trigger was pulled completely back by Mary's finger. She put the gun back down at her side; the doctor exhaled a breath of relief and wondered at how Lottie managed to survive that frightful experience so cleverly.
"Observant, wow, you're better than I thought you'd be." The former Mrs. Watson complimented.
"Thanks." Lottie smiled.
"H-how did you know-?" John began.
"There weren't any shells in there; I didn't see anything she could kill me with there." Lottie explained.
"She also revealed another thing about the murder of whomever will get killed today." Sherlock spoke up.
"Please, report any information you deduce." Mary allowed.
"You're going to use an injection to attempt to murder one of us. One containing the same infectious particles that wiped out the people who had lived down here after it had flooded." The detective spat fire as he rapidly presented his thoughts.
"Right on the nose, darling. I've got the syringe right here." She motioned to her black body-suit's side pocket.
That was went the restrained girl panicked. She may have been tough and strong with all the strangee experiences in her life that shaped her to be like that, but the needles were her weakness. She only had contact with them in necessary situations, such as a doctor's office for vaccination shots. Her breathing became frequent and erratic, causing her to fall into a complete mental attack. She shut her eyes tightly and started to crumple to the ground, not quite making it down due to the ties holding her up to the wall. The rest of her body had gone numb; no longer did she feel the burn around her wrists or the ache in her legs.
"Aww, looks like the young Hudson suffers from a mental issue. That solves it, thank you all very much for your time. This won't hurt me at all." Mary spoke deviously.
The syringe was uncovered and it was quite massive for such a tool. Her careful steps were slow and aimed towards the man who had been married to her, the father of her child. Her expression hardened and she whipped her arm up to his neck veins where the sharp needle pierced his skin. Sherlock shouted defensively, pouncing on the woman to stop her from continuing. Lottie was still in her mental state of anxiety, tears falling down her lovely face.
John's knees buckled, even as Mary had been thrown off of him, and he hung sideways limply from the wall where he was tied. His beat friend got back up on his knees to check on him, but it was too late. John's skin was significantly paler and his blue veins were extremely well-defined in contrast. He seemed to be shaking while his pulse was slowing down. Sherlock cut his friend free from the ties on his wrists and grasped them to find any sign of a beating heart. The detective's heart was full of something that he rarely even thought of- hope. Lottie's cries filled the background air and Mary was passed out from hitting her head on the ground when Sherlock knocked her down. There was only one chance of confirmation for John to be alive and a few seconds past. Sherlock gulped in fear, tears forming subconsciously and pooling up until they created a salty puddle on the stone floor. There was no pulse. John Hamish Watson was dead.
