Amalthea set her bags down at Sherlock's flat and stretched out on the couch, tired. She pulled out Chinese takeout from a bag.
Sherlock walked in at the perfect time. He didn't say a word, just accepted the food she offered him and sat beside her. They sat in silence for a few moments until she rested her head on his shoulder. He looked a little taken back but placed his head on hers.
"Who won the fight?" she asked.
"I did...but we came to the conclusion that you can choose."
"I'll stay here," she said. "Mycroft's place is lonely. You know I don't like being lost in darkness...like the place you all sent me to."
"Amalthea you were a danger to yourself and others, we had to protect you."
"So you say."
"You tried to-!" he shouted.
There was a loud bang from outside and they both jolted up, on guard.
"Stay here," he commanded and ran down the stairs to the outside. Amalthea pulled out her handgun.
"Like hell," she muttered. "I'm no damsel in distress."
She hurried out the door and down the stairs just in time to hear another shot. She got outside to see Sherlock fall to the floor and a car racing away. She raised her arm and focused. Two bullet's went flying from the gun. The first shot through the car window and the second went through one of the two guys heads.
She dropped her arm and quickly fell beside her brother, her eyes scanning for more danger.
She pressed down on his bleeding shoulder and pulled out her phone, dialing an ambulance. She then dialed Mycroft and resumed applying preasure on her brothers wound.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at the text.
Who protects the Queen from harm and carries a shield of armor over his heart that he only lowers for his dear sister? The game is getting tense, kitten. More heads will roll, move your piece. I'll be waiting. <3
~JM
The ambulance arrive and as Sherlock was loaded on Amalthea put more bullets in her gun. She glanced back at Sherlock, who Mycroft was standing over and drilling the driver about whether they were competent to do their jobs or not.
Amalthea walked back into Sherlock's flat and pulled on leggings, a black shirt with leather jacket and grabbed her purse.
She ran outside and hotwired a motorcycle.
"This means war, Moriarty."
She drove off into the night, ready to serve vengeance.
YOU ARE READING
I Need a Gangsta//Jim Moriarty
Fanfiction"The brain is a very peculiar reprieve, for myself. You, of all people should understand, Mr. Moriarty. Sherlock and Mycroft do. You, however, don't like to play by the rules....Luckily, neither do I. So what do you say? Game on." Amalthea Quirra Ho...
