Breaking Point

Chapter 8: Your Choice

Moriarty had a smirk on his lips that Sherlock couldn’t help but hate. He had a sudden urge to shoot something. And he did just that. He swung his gun at the wall and shot the yellow smiley face four times, twice in each eye. After he did that, he felt much better.

“You don’t have a sniper on the roof,” Sherlock stated calmly. “You’re just keeping me here long enough so that I don’t make it to the theatre and save John.”

“Even if you could save John, how would you? You don’t have a plan.”

“Wrong. WRONG. I’ve always had a plan. Even if it wasn’t because of you. I calculated all the possibilities of this situation. And I had a back up.”

“What’s your backup?” Moriarty asked, his smirk still visible, though it had faltered considerably.

“Moon. Moon was my backup,” Sherlock said. He flipped his phone open and sent a text.

*            *            *

About three blocks away, Tresa felt her pocket start singing. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it. On the screen was a simple blurb.

Now.

-SH

Tresa grinned and put her hand to her hip, where through the cloth she felt the dagger sewn into the lining of her shorts.

“With pleasure,” She whispered, ripping it out, snapping the phone shut, and giving a sly look to Moon.

Moon grinned back, sliding her dagger from her boot.

“Big Johnnie first?” She whispered slicing the ropes holding her wrists together.

The two large Italians were conversing conspiratorially in the next room.

“I’ll take Little Johnnie if you take Big Johnnie,” Tresa said, shrugging. Moon cut her sister’s bonds and then John’s, who was slowly but surely recovering. He looked at Moon.

“What now?”

“Stay here. You need to stay safe. Sherlock will come get you, so wait for him and don’t do anything stupid. I mean it. Here’s my gun- give it back to me later, because it was my granddad’s, and he would shoot me if I lost it,” She said, smiling and tossing him the gun.

“What are you going to do?” He asked, holstering it.

“Something drastic. Did you know I used to be a makeup aficionado in high school? All the boys wondered how I made shotgun blasts look so realistic... Those were the days. But then I had materials. Now... well, not so much. So, I’m going to give you a quick gunshot wound. It’s easy, really. All I need is blood- a lot of it- and a bloodstained bullet.”

She quickly unloaded the magazine, slipped out a bullet, and reloaded it. Then, with a quick moment, she slashed her palm with a shallow X. Dipping the bullet in the blood, she set it on the ground gingerly, and then dripped her blood over his shirt.

“Sorry, this might be a little awkward. But I don’t have HIV or anything horrible, so you don’t have to worry. I’m just short on materials.

Once a significant puddle had formed, she bunched the t-shirt up in one place making it seem redder and dropped the bullet in. The whole transfer took about three minutes. Tresa looked impatient and tapped her toe on the ground.

“Done?”

“Almost. Okay, John, stay safe. Be careful. And whatever you do, DON’T drive or operate machinery for two minutes. And close your ears. This is going to get hairy.”