Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 17- Nightlock

Millie's POV

I arrive back at Baker Street feeling thoroughly perturbed. It's like the events of last year repeating themselves in a vicious circle. I let myself in, and sit down heavily on the sofa.

"Millie, I'm not talking about Sherlock."

My heart stopped for a fraction of the second. And everything fell into place. At least it makes sense now.

Of course Moriarty was responsible for the bruises on her neck. He likes to leave reminders on the person, so that the people around them are very aware of what he's done. When he kissed me, he pinned things to my collar, and printed on my neck, to let Sherlock know that he'd got to me. That also makes sense.

However, what doesn't comply to this pattern is his reasoning for involving Emily. Obviously he doesn't have any romantic inclinations towards her. She knows that too. But she's not as close to Sherlock as I was. So he can't be using her as a piece in his games, can he? And, as far as I'm aware, she doesn't harbour feelings towards him, either. Not yet, anyway. I think she's similar to me, in that sense.It's the danger she finds addicting. 

The question is, what do I tell Sherlock?

Do I tell him anything at all? I'm finding myself liking Emily Schott more and more, and I don't want to shred this fragile bridge of trust that has slowly started to form between us. But he needs to know that Moriarty, who, until now, has remained quiet since the shooting, is back and playing the game. We all knew that this time would come, but now that it's here, I'm starting to feel distinctly unnerved.

People died because of the game last time. Because of us. Because of Sherlock.

The door swings open and John and Sherlock enter the apartment, heatedly arguing about Mycroft and his weight loss regime. Normally, I would find this particularly amusing, but recent events have caused my sense of humour to regress slightly, to make room for nervous anticipation.

They stop arguing when they see my expression.

"Millie, are you alright?" says John, concern scrawled across his face.

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Emily's POV

I sit down gingerly on my bed, holding up the mirror and scowling as I examine the bruises along my neck and jawbone. I didn't notice them until Millie pointed them out. So much for subtlety.

Though the concept of Sherlock inflicting such marks is really quite amusing.

I feel a pang of pity for Millie; she doesn't realise how much he means to her.  

No, I can't think like that.

I've got to detach myself completely from her, and Sherlock, and John. And Moriarty. Because I know that soon, the game they talk about is going to start up again, and one of them is going to lose. I don't want to be affected by the loss.

I'm hoping that Moriarty won't contact me again, but he will, because he thinks he has a stake in me. I smile. He's wrong, this time. I find him mesmerising, but ultimately, he is too dangerous. I have to remind myself that he is legitimately insane, and that the closer I get to him, the faster I am speeding up the process of my own, inevitable death.

But he is an excellent kisser, I'll give him that. 

There's another thing bothering me; Vera Knight. When Moriarty said he wanted to have a talk with her. It sounded very much like a threat, but I must have misinterpreted it, because she hasn't done anything to impact him or his game. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I switch on the computer, browsing The Web for general updates. "The Web" is an underground criminal forum, where everyone is administered a cryptic name and anonymous posts keep us updated on who's dead, who's succeeded, notable clients, targets etc. Nothing interesting so far. I scroll down to the bottom of the page, disinterested, when suddenly-

My pulse stops.

Nightlock: Status: Deceased_ 04/02/2014

'Nightlock' is Vera Knight.

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