Lost And Found

2 Weeks Later

A/N Soooo you're going to hate me for this but I have skipped around 2 weeks later because the filler chapters proved to be a challenge for ideas. This chapter has been written for a while actually. Some things in it might not make sense so sorry about that. I couldn't stand not finishing this story so I guess it's better to reach the ending than be stuck in the middle. There are a few more chapters to follow this one, but that's the end of the book. I have lots of ideas for a sequel but idk xD - S.E.

2 Weeks Later

Elizabeth's POV 

The flat has never been so nice and warm in the time I have been here. Although, I think Sherlock and John solved a case that offered five digits of cash. They must've turned the heating up before they left.

The doorbell rings and I freeze in my chair. Do I answer it?

I slide out of the seat slowly and crawl towards the window to see who is standing outside the door.

...The postman. Or more specifically, the postman holding a box, with 221b clearly printed on the front with some smaller writing next to it which must be the address.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't take a sigh of relief, but this could still be a set-up, right?

I let my arm reach up to the table next to me and grip my phone tightly, as if this harmless looking postman will come inside and tell me to put my hands up.

No. I shake my head and stand up, exiting the room and trotting down the stairs before wandering down the hall and standing next to the door.

"Who is it?" I ask apprehensively but knowing fully well what the answer is.

"It's your post - a parcel delivery for a ''Miss Elizabeth Watson."

The bodyguards would take care of it, right. They'll have this covered. It'll be fine.

"Do I have to sign for it?"

"Uhh – no. No you don't."

"Ok. Please can you leave it outside the door?"

"...ok" The postman comments, sounding confused, but I hear him continue his round down the street.

I approach the door cautiously and peek through the glass hole thing that lets the inside see the outside, but not the outside see the inside.

There's nothing but a box outside the door.

I open it slowly, leaving the smallest gap possible to get the parcel through without having to open it too widely.

The door clicks shut and I sit down cross legged on the floor, staring at the package for a while.

"Here goes." I mutter to myself, praying that it doesn't contain some kind of gas that knocks you out or worse – drowns you with your own body fluid.

I shudder at the thought, but if this is the rebels, they would want to at least speak to me which would be followed by a much slower, much more painful death.

I lift the lid up of the box, leaning away slightly to avoid a poison arrow or something, but only find more brown paper hiding its contents.

I frown and pull up the brown paper. My blood runs cold, and my eyes widen in fear.

I stand up suddenly and scamper away to the nearest wall – currently the most I can do to get away from the box.

After a few minutes of shock induced panic, I slowly walk over to where the box lays again, and bend down next to it, looking inside again.