Lace POV
It has been 3 months. 3 months too long. Sherlock is still playing sad songs. I stand outside their flat and listen sometimes, the way he moves with the violin as he reaches the most painful notes. His fingers bleed from how hard he is gripping it sometimes.
It has been 4 months and Moriarty is on my trail. I cannot go near Sherlock. Oh how I miss his beauty. His eyes I remember but his voice is fading from my memory.
It has been 5 months and I'm being tortured again. Sherlock is.. Well i don't know actually.
It has been 6 months and I'm growing numb from the pain. The mental and Physical pain. I miss him so so much. I want to lay across his lap and scream "I love You" at the top of my lungs.
Now it's 7 months total.
I scream in pain as the knife glides it's way down my eye to the end of my cheekbone, blood seeping through the deep cut.
"GIVE ME INFORMATION ON JOHN AND SHERLOCK NOW!" Moriarty screams in my face with a slap that follows, causing blood to collect itself in my mouth. Spitting It out disgusted at the metallic taste I tell him the same word for the hundredth time.
"No."
"KILL HER!" He screams at his side man, face a blazing volcano, Sick of me not giving him awnsers.
"But Sir we need information." Seb protests.
"Well it has been NEARLY 2 MONTHS and we have revived ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!"
I prepare for a gunshot to my head or a knife plastered into my stomach at the force of a sledgehammer but nothing comes.
"...Lace..?" I hear Lestrades voice echo out.
If he was here then HE was bound to be here too.
"No. No. Get away. Is he here?"
"Yes."
"Get me out of these things. Tell him nothing. You can John but not him, are we clear." I say with a shaky voice as he opens my cuffs.
"Okay. Do you want Molly to..." He says refering to my wounds.
"I'm fine."
"Good to see your alive."
"You too. Catch ya."
"Catch ya."
With that I looked past Lestrade to reveal John. I put my finger up to my lips and winked. Leaving the rest to Lestrade and I run. I sprint with tears on my face almost as fast as I am running. The tears fasten as I hear Sherlock's voice asking.
"Found anything?"
"Nope." John relied with a thin line of a smile. He always does that when he lies. I chuckle at the thought of a little hedgehog sitting with his mouth in a thin line.
I all of a sudden stop. My body is disobeying my order of keep running. I turn around peeking from around the corner of the brick building where I ran past earlier. I take another step forward to see better but I hear a clunk on the ground, then a second clunk which wasn't me.
"Who's there?" Sherlock yells out, brave voice. I crack a smile because I know he has adreiline running through his veins right now. Oh that voice I missed. His emotions you can only just tell if you've only met his once. But if you know him like i do, you can tell instantaneously his every thought.
"Maybe it was just something falling down?" Lestrade questions more than states, making me face palm very hard.
"Or the wind?" John... really is not helping...at all.
"That was obviously a kick of an object. Show yourself and save us the chase or I'll shoot."
Great. This totally leaves all my options open. I turn around ready to run only to see Seb with his sniper aiming towards Sherlock's chest. It all happens so fast. I run out to Sherlock who nearly shoots me in surprise at me being a female.
I don't think he recognises me. John notices the sniper and shoots Seb half a second too late. I fall to the ground in pain, blood oozing ungracefully out of my wounds. Why does this always happen!
John POV
Sherlock doesn't recognize Lace from the distance. Her hair is now a pale blue and her eyes are green from the contacts in her eyes. Lace is definitely slimmer from starvation and her make-up is heavy. If i hadn't heard her voice i would have walked straight past her on the street. Running to her place on the ground I lift her up and start to run to 221B Baker Street.
Sliding my hands against the surface of the kitchen table I place her gently on it only to hear her grunt in pain. God she looks in bad shape. As I grab a knife from the kitchen Sherlock runs through our doors, discarding of his coat and rolling up his sleeves in the process.
"Take her contacts out." I say fast but clearly.
Sherlock does as he is told and his face hardens.
"Did you know it was her?"
"Yes."
"I am.. awake... you know..." She says between coughing up blood. Bloody hell she is a horrible patient. Can't shut up for a second. That's the Lace I've always known. Smirking I grab one of her shirts she left behind and rip it up, shoving it in her mouth and quickly taking action by jabbing the knife carefully into her seeping wound, it is puffy and turing a purple colour. It is poisoned but if I remove the bullet fast enough she should be fine.
"Yo-"
"I know now shut up and fix me so I get a few more days to live." She says through gritted teeth.
"How are you still alive? I thought you were going to die from the past poisoning."
"Moriarty...gave antidote...to keep..so could.. TOURTURE LONGER! CHRIST JOHN!" She yells at me as I rip out the bullet replacing it with a cloth on it for pressure.
"Same info?" I ask looking at her and she nods." Did you tell them anything?"
"Not a word." She says smiling, the blood on her face really needs to be dealt with. Sherlock leaves the room.
"I'll talk to him. Can you do the rest?"
"I may be injured but I'm not disable." She snorts out.
Running after Sherlock into the lounge I see him with his hands on his face, wiping away tears with the palms of his hands.
"Are you alright?"
"7 months John. She never said a word to us and it was our protection while I sat her despising her."
"Try doing it for two years." I joke back earning a chuckle from him.
"How bad are the.. other wounds?" A pregnant pause.
"She should be fine."
Just then I turn around to see Lace passed out on the floor. The drugs probably kicked in.
