Arcadia - (A WhoLock Fanfiction)

:Chapter 20: Aim:

For the next couple of weeks, things were typical at 221B Baker Street, or about as typical as they got when Sherlock was on a case. He tried looking into the Moriarty case, but he brushed it off by saying he didn't have enough leads to investigate just yet. There was something though, something only I knew. The day Sebastian Moran came to visit.

...

I came back from a case, earlier than Sherlock & John. They were chasing a killer all over London, and I was never really the type for legwork. As I made my way back, I felt eyes on me, watching me. I brushed the feeling of as surveillance. Probably just some of Mycroft's men. Sherlock demanded that Mycroft have people watching just in case I start to show symptoms.

I pushed the front door open to find bullet holes in everyone of the stairs. I walked up them slowly, curious to see what was at the end of the trail. Of course, it was the door to the flat. I slowly pushed the half open door to reveal a figure standing near the fireplace, and he was not Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade or Anderson. He was completely new.

"Nice of you to join me, Aria Oswald,"

I panicked when he spoke to me, my breaths becoming shaky as I stood my ground.

"What do you want?"

"But Aria, we are only just getting acquainted, you should be pleased to see your friend, Sebastian,"

"Friend?"

"Friend, it's a funny word isn't it? But your right, it probably doesn't suit strangers."

He smirked and walked towards me, gun in his hand and he lifted his arm to point it right at my head. He pointed it at me for a few seconds, checking to see how confident I was, before suddenly dropping it and shooting right next to my foot.

I panicked and but didn't jerk my foot away as the bullet dug into the wooden floor. I sighed a breath of relief and opened my eyes I only just realised I had shut.

"I have a good aim, I can aim precisely and perfectly, especially at someone's head. Now, Ms Oswald, or should I say, Ms Holmes, I want you to tell your new "friend", Sherlock Holmes, to stay away from us. He'll know the name when he hears it. Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty. You tell him to leave us alone, or I'll put a bullet through his head myself. We clear,"

"Perfectly clear," He smirked again and walked to the door, "Oh and just before you go,"

I pulled out a gun that I knew Sherlock kept loaded in his drawer, for emergencies. When he turned around to face me, I aimed for his foot and shot him right at his fancy leather shoes. He screamed in pain and I put the gun back in the drawer. He looked like he was about to punch me in the face but he restrained himself, and smiled angrily at me.

"I don't have a good aim, but I know when someone needs a bullet in their foot. Trust me when I say I am more intelligent than you give me credit for, and will not be pushed around like a pet, we clear?"

He scowled at me before limping down the stairs and to a car parked outside. I heard shouting as the door opened up until he slammed shut. I smiled even though I probably shouldn't have. I guess there was something about shooting someone in the foot that was satisfying.

I heard a car outside and I ran to the window. Of course, it was not Sherlock. There were a million cars in the world and the one at that exact time was not likely to be Sherlock. I sighed with relief but then the paranoia took over me.

What if he sees the gun missing a bullet? What if he asks me about it? What do I say? Do I tell him?

No, don't tell him yet. Not until he picks the case up again.

Now, about getting that blood off the floor...

...

And the time had come. A week later, Sherlock was stressing about Moriarty. I had to tell him about Sebastian and what I did, which probably didn't make the situation any better. Why do I have to be so bloody confident all the time? Too confident for my own good.

Sherlock was sitting down thinking in his chair. This probably wasn't a good time to interrupt, but I knew I wouldn't end up saying it if I put it off any longer.

"Sherlock..."

"Hmmmm..."

"I have something to tell you, about the case,"

"What is it?"

"Have of heard of... Sebastian Moran?" I held my breath for his response and his face was confused and worried.

"Yes...but how do you know of him?"

"He...um...well, he came here a few days ago,"

"To Baker Street?"

I closed my eyes and tore my eyes from his angry stare that was hurting me. My voice was shaky as I answered his demanding questions.

"Yes,"

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"It wasn't too long ago, I was just trying to find the right time..."

"Did he hurt you? There's a bullet hole in the ground here, did he shoot you?"

I walked over to the drawers and pulled the same gun out to show him. He smiled at me, to my surprise, did Sherlock Holmes actually care? No, he is Sherlock. He doesn't care about people, at all.

He pulled me into a hug a few seconds later and I just stood there, stunned.

Maybe there were some people he ca..red ...ab...out...

I felt the pain rip through my side again, like last time, my head get hotter and hotter, my lungs closing up fighting to get past the dust.

I felt myself drop to the floor and lay there, Sherlock not knowing what to do. I was fighting to breathe at this point, and again, I gave in. I couldn't stop the pain. This was it,

I am going to die...

"Aria? Aria,"

NO, you are not going to die now, not now, not in front of Sherlock. Don't die, for Sherlock. He has just started to care about you and it would hurt him. Don't die for Sherlock.

I took deep breaths in and the pain in my side faded. I still had to fight with my lungs for air, my lungs closing tighter, trying to push the dust out. I struggled to sit up, thinking it would make it easy to breathe. It did actually and I was almost shocked to see Sherlock there next to me, tears in eyes. He thought I was going to die too.

"Sherlock..."

I finally had the breath to speak. I knew it wasn't a good idea and it hurt tremendously, but I was going to die anyway.

"What is it? What?"

"Calm down,"

"Calm? You were dying! You still are dying!"

I frowned as he said this to me, wanting him to hopeful and reassuring to me.

"I'm...fine,"

"No, you're not, I'm calling John,"

"Fine,"

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed John, quickly spoke on the phone, sounding very concerned as he argued with John to leave work and come help me. I wasn't entirely sure that he could do anything. Sherlock hung up the phone and looked back at me. I quickly looked down before his eyes met mine and shrugged against the wall. He paused for a second, just thinking.

"What did Sebastian Moran say to you?" his face looked angry, concerned and determined. He was obviously picking the case back up now.

"He said ... that you should leave him alone ... him and Jim Moriarty,"

Sherlock sighed and sat back against the wall, taking it all in. Just like the last time he had heard that name... but this time, I sat next to him and he didn't shout. He wasn't angry. I saw that he was truly terrified of Jim Moriarty and I wanted desperately to tell him it was okay, that he wouldn't be hurt by him but I knew deep down that wasn't true.