Guns, Games, and Mutual Appreciation ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book I}

Chapter 22- Lying To Sherlock Holmes

Millie's POV

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"Millie? Millie- it's John... can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?"

My eyelids flicker slightly, but don't open. I assess the situation in my head. I'm lying down, somewhere soft, and I can hear John speaking to me. The rooms smell familiar- I'm back at Baker Street.

I open my eyes.

John breathes a sigh of relief, and sits down next to me, placing a hand on my forehead and monitoring my temperature.

"How are you feeling?"

I blink at him.

"What happened? After I came out of there."

He smiles carefully.

"Not very much. You went into shock. You passed out. We brought you here, and... well,here you are."

"John."

"What?" he says, avoiding eye contact.

"What is it. What's wrong?"

"Nothing-"

"John."

He sighs, leaves, and comes back a few moments later with a shaving mirror from the bathroom.

"We tried to get it off. I'm sorry, Millie."

I angle the mirror, and lift the ringlets from my neck.

Burned

I touch the lettering lightly, then start to shake as the memories of last night pour into my head. Being drugged. Being a hostage. Sherlock. Moriarty. Whispering. Shooting. Darkness. Sherlock. Moriarty. Lighter. Pens. Moriarty. Smiling against my lips. Darkness. I look at John, white faced. He can't know. No-one can know.

"Millie- what is it? Is it the writing? How did he get it on to you? Crap, Millie- stay with me, breathe, that's right."

My breathing slows down, and I manage a smile. 

"Don't worry, I'm fine. The writing? I... I don't know what it is. I'm sorry. Where's Sherlock?"

"He's waiting, in the other room."

"Can I see him?"

He looks at me, then at the closed door.

"I don't think that's a good-"

"Please."

He sighs, then stands up, and leaves the room. I listen to the murmur of voices. Then, the door opens again, and Sherlock walks in, impassive.

I don't say anything. He doesn't say anything. Silence. Then, he explodes suddenly-

"You shouldn't have done that, Millie.."

"I did the right thing."

"No, you didn't." he says sharply. Then- "Why did you do it?"

My heart drops. How does he know? He can't know. It's impossible. Please don't let him know.

 "Why did you pretend?"

My body sags with relief. I see Sherlock looking at me strangely, so I sit up again, hoping he didn't notice my reaction, although, knowing him, he probably did.

"Because you need John. You can't function without him," I say, choosing my words carefully. "I didn't want you to make the choice."

"It was my decision, Millie."

"It worked though, didn't it? I'm alive, John's alive, you're alive-"

"Moriarty's alive."

"Yes."

"What are you not telling me?" Sherlock says slowly, narrowing his eyes slightly.

My heart beat stops for a fraction of a second. I watch Sherlock analyse me, my expression, the printed words on my neck. I watch, but say nothing.

"Millie," he begins, pressing his fingers together in a steeple over his mouth. "How did Moriarty get that pen on your neck?"

Silence.

I firm my resolve, and sit up a bit taller, and look him in the eye.

"I don't know."

"How can you-"

"I don't know. I can only remember fragments of last night. I'm as curious as you are, trust me. But I don't know, Sherlock."

He looks at me very intently. Then-

"It says burned. Which means he's done something- something that will affect me. But I don't know what it is, and you apparently don't either. It's a game, Millie," he says, sounding dissatisfied. "And at the moment, he's playing as King."

And then he shakes his head slightly, and smiles.

"But- what you did back there- it was brave. Thankyou." 

And he leans across the bed and lightly kisses me on the cheek. I smile, and try very hard to meet his eyes.

He's gone, and I'm left with a sickening clench in my stomach. I've just lied to Sherlock Holmes.

And I don't think I've gotten away with it.

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