Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 23~Reality Fears

-----Willow POV-------

My eyes flutter open. Blood drips from my eyelashes like tears on a child's eye. Everything is blurred. My head pounds with my pulse. The throbbing sensation sends me back to shutting my eyes.

"I'd really rather you have your eyes open for this." I hear a voice thickened with an irish accent. My breathing becomes ragged. I open my eyes and glare at Moriarty.

"Why? Why can't you leave us alone?" I find myself thinking aloud. My dark curly hair falls in front of my face. 

"What fun could be found in that?" He pouts turning his head to the side. I try to speak again but all that comes out is a gasp of pain. Moriarty walks to me, standing like a pyramid in front of my slump body. "We need more guests for our little party, don't you think so?" He asks looking down at me grimly. I give no response. 

His face suddenly lights up. He paces away from me. "I know who to call!" He sings. He pulls out his phone and dials.

-------John POV---------

Sherlock's phone rings. One ring, two rings.

"Sherlock! Your phone!" I yell hoping he can hear me. He rushes past me and looks at the phone. He sees the number and answers it immediately putting the phone on speaker.

"Hello." Sherlock says lower than usual. Sherlock holds out the phone so we both can hear. 

"Come to our little party, Sherlock!" The phone speaks. I freeze at the voice.

"You and who?" Sherlock asks demanding an answer.

"Oh I might as well let them speak for themself." He answers. The phone speaks quietly this time. It is also a female voice. 

"Don't. Do it." She whispers. Sherlock's eyes widen in fear, I do as well. It's Willow.

"Willow, where are you!?" Sherlock yells demanding. He's furious, I can tell.

"I don't want you to get hurt." She whimpers.

"Same goes for myself. Now where are you?!" He yells desperate. 

"Oops looks like we're running out of time, Sherlock."  Jim takes the phone away from Willow. 

"Where is she?" Sherlock growls impatient.

"Should I really tell you? You know I should just kill her now. She's too boring."  when Sherlock hears this he starts to become enraged. 

"Where is she!?" He screams. There's a sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Come play at the pool." The phone hangs up. Sherlock quickly drops the phone and puts on his coat. Throwing on his scarf as he runs down the stair. I hustle after him the best I can. He hails a cab and we hop in. My phone rings. I pick it up and put it on speaker. 

"Tick tock Sherlock." Moriarty says emphasizing the 'ck'.

We are almost there when there suddenly is a traffic collision. The cars in front of us are going very slow. Sherlock steps out of the car and begins to run. I have never seen him like this, so desperate.  I run after Sherlock and we make it to the pool faster than the cab ever could. 

We enter the chlorine scented building. The pool reflects different lights in every direction, illuminating the large room. Willow is sitting by the locker room doors, her body slumped against the wall for support. Her blue eyes now dark, contrasting from her bloodied skin. She looks up at us and whispers something I can't make out. Willow passes out.

-----Willow POV-------

I open my eyes to see John and Sherlock bursting through the doors. I shake my head.

"No. He's going to kill you. Stop." I whisper. Everything goes black for a second, but I come back soon.

Jim is holding his hand up ready to signal something. I don't know what's happening, but the moment Moriarty flicks his wrist a gunshot is fired. John is shot in the chest. Blood soaks into his ivory colored sweater. His eyes roll back and he collapses. I scream. Moriarty is smiling wide. Blood drips into the drain causing me to cringe with sadness. I begin to cry at the sight, I look back at Moriarty ready to kill him. He forces his eyes at me and smirks, he glances back at Sherlock and laughs darkly. Moriarty flicks his wrist again.

I stare back at Sherlock who is shot directly in the throat. I scream and crawl toward him. I kneel beside him, I hold his head in my hands. Blood pools into my hands. I cradle Sherlock limp body in my arms. I press my own forehead to his. 

"No." I sob. "No." I say a little louder. "No!" I scream at the top of my lungs. He can't be dead. 

*****