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

Chapter 23 -Aftermath

Emily's POV

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"What the hell were you thinking, Emily?"

"Hi, John," I say, as casually as I can, walking over to the kitchen and taking two  mugs out of the cupboard, "Tea? Coffee?"

I'm aware that I'm being irritatingly evasive, but I have no idea how I'm going to explain what just happened, so I'm buying myself some time to think.

"What the bloody hell was he doing here?"

 I sigh, abandon trying to be courteous and sit down on the sofa, gesturing for John to join me. He sits down hesitantly, and continues to stare at me.

"What are you doing here?" 

"Christ... er... we need to tell you something- Sherlock and Millie are looking for you at the moment too, we've been at it all evening, asking if anyone knows an Emily Schott. It's been a bloody nightmare," he says.

"What did you want?"

John shifts, looking uncomfortable-

"I don't think I should be the one to tell you."

I raise an eyebrow. John shakes his head slightly, then sits back, and says-

"Sorry about er.. earlier. I didn't realise you had company.."

I shrug. 

"It was probably a good thing you turned up when you did," I say.

John frowns at me. 

"Are you alright? I mean- are you two an item or something?" He looks visibly disgusted at the concept.

I laugh.

"No, not at all. He actually came over to tell me that I had to die-"

"What?!"

"And he knew you were looking for me. Probably thought it would be funny if one of you walked in. And it makes a statement, in your game, because it shows that he's in control."

"That manipulative bastard-"

"This is Jim Moriarty we're talking about. Of course he's a manipulative bastard. It's what he does."

"Sorry, I know it's not my place to ask, but.. if you knew that.. why did you go along with it?"

I consider.

"I don't actually know. I only realised afterwards. Basic instinct got the better of me, I suppose," I shrug.

John pulls a face. 

"I don't think Sherlock needs to know about this. Or Millie. You won't mention it, will you?" I say after a while, examining the cuff of my jacket.

John laughs dryly.

"I don't need to. Have you seen yourself yet?"

I frown at him, confused.

"You should probably find a mirror."

I stand up, and go into my bedroom, trying to ignore the scent of apple that lingers. I bend down, not expecting much, then  swear, loudly-

I look like I've been in a fight. My lips are swollen, my hair is everywhere, but more alarmingly, there are very clear bite marks down my neck and jaw, the dark outline of teeth on skin, and the beginnings of red bruises forming. 

"He really went all out," says John, leaning on the doorframe and watching my look of horror with a combination pity and humour.

"John?"