Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LIX • 59

I turned the door knob carefully, willing it not to creak.
It only made a slight scraping sound as it swung inward. I made sure my gun was in my pocket, then stepped in, shutting the door quietly behind me.
It was pitch black now, and I couldn't risk a torch.
I ran my hands along the wall, feeling my way around.
I heard the sound of running footsteps, but I couldn't tell from which direction they had come.
Was it Sebastian? Someone else?
I stood still a moment, hoping the dark would conceal me.
The steps came closer, not so frantic this time.
Something- or rather, someone- brushed against my arm, then a fist collided with my jaw. Reflex allowed me to grab the offending hand and wrench it back. I heard a grunt of pain, then felt a knee to my stomach.
A blind fist fight. Okay.
Still grasping my assailant's arm, I ignored the throbbing where his knee had collided with my abdomen and threw a punch of my own.
From what I could tell, it landed on his jaw and he groaned, then used his free arm to lash out, blind.
I managed to dodge the blow that would've landed directly on my eye, and wrapped my arm around his neck in a headlock. My eyes had adjusted slightly to the dark and I could see just the outline of the man I'd been fighting.
"Who.. are...you?" He managed between gasps of precious air as my arm around his throat loosened a little.
I couldn't kill him. Not yet at least.
"That is of no consequence." I growled, loosening my grip just a little once more.
He struggled out of my grasp and darted off.
I stood still for a moment, making sure he wasn't just circling around.
He didn't come back. After everything he'd done, he was still a coward.
But then, I supposed when it came to being fought and beaten, he was likely still scarred by the memories of his father. He thrived on the power of beating others, you and his prison guard for example, but the moment he was beat by another, the memories came back full force.
I could relate to that.

John's POV- Earlier:

I needed to go to Dublin. I had no choice. If Sebastian was there, and Sherlock was there, they'd most certainly find each other and at least one of them would die. I couldn't have Sherlock dying and I couldn't have him killing anyone either, even if it was Sebastian.
I called the office and got a week off. I then called my parents.
They'd known about you and had been down a few times.
The phone rang three times before it was answered.
"Mum?" I asked, timidly.
"Johnny?"
"Yeah mum, it's me. I have to go to Ireland for a few days. Could you- could you and dad come down and stay with (F/N) until I get back? I can't bear to leave her alone."
I could hear her speaking quietly to my father, then she came back on the line.
"Why do you need to go to Ireland?"
I sighed. I was afraid she might ask this.
"Sherlock's gotten himself into trouble and I'm afraid if I don't go now he's going to be killed. For real this time." She wasn't too fond of him after what he'd done, but I heard her grumble then sigh.
"Alright, fine. We'll be there in an hour."
"Thank you so much. I have to go right now, but I'll leave the door open. Mrs. Hudson knows you're coming."
"Okay. Goodbye."
"Bye mum."

Sherlock's POV:

I continued my traversing through the boat, going a little faster this time as I could see better. After a few minutes of what felt like going in circles, I came upon a soft glow. It emanated from under a door. I took my gun from my pocket and opened the door slowly, quietly.
It was a bedroom, fairly good sized for a house boat. The light came from a small lamp that stood next to a bed.
Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me. He was fingering a Browning, switching the safety on, then back off. I couldn't tell exactly what he was going to do with the gun, but I was wary. I stepped closer, glad the floor didn't creak.
Five beams supported the ceiling, one in each corner and one in the center of the room. I stepped behind the one closest me, now concealed in the shadow created by the soft light of the lamp.
I saw him raise the gun, and I stepped further into the shadows, more wary than ever.
I then saw him do something I hadn't considered, even after my experience with Jim.
He raised the gun to his own head.
I thought fast. With Jim, I hadn't had the chance to stop him. I hated Sebastian with everything in me, but that didn't mean I wanted him to kill himself.
Before I knew what I was doing, I spoke.
"Don't do it, Sebastian."
He whipped around, gun in hand.
I was still concealed in the shadows, but I could see him clearly. I saw the bruise on his jaw where I had hit him. He had real fear on his face, and for just a second I thought again about his broken childhood, his abusive father, his runaway mother, but then I remembered he'd poisoned and nearly killed his own sister, and all remorse I may have felt for him vanished.
"What do you want?" He asked, looking in my general direction but glancing to the left and right. He didn't know where my voice had come from.
"Drop the gun. I only want to talk to you." I replied.
His grip on the Browning remained tight.
I sighed. He didn't know I was alive and I had no doubt that he'd terminate me if he saw me while holding a gun.
I decided it would be best to talk him down.
"I know about your father. Surly alcoholic, he abused you and your sister, thought you were good for nothing but chopping up fish. And your mother. Ah, she hated your father so much that she abandoned the both of you. Am I right so far?"
I saw him swallow hard, but he didn't reply.
"But where does (F/N) come into the picture, hum?" I wasn't really asking a question. "You're four years her senior. Now, how old were you when your mother left? Five? Six?"
He cut in. "Four. I was four."
"Ah! So half sister?" I knew this, but he didn't need to know that I knew everything about his past. "Your father didn't think twice about your mother leaving, but rather took another wife almost immediately. No wonder you hated him so! You spent 19 years stoking your anger, allowing it to become fiery rage and, revenge fueled, you killed him. Oh so clever, by the way. No one knew. No one but me." I paused, but he didn't say anymore. "And (F/N), she was four when she was adopted, but you? No, no one even thought about getting you out of that mess. Were you angry at her? Did you hate-"
He cut me off again. "NO!" He shouted. Then, softly, "No. I loved her." He had allowed the gun to fall lax by his side, his grip on it loosening.
I decided it was now or never.  I stepped into view, keeping my gun aimed at him.
His immediately shot up, and now we were both holding guns at each other's heads.
"You know, if you shoot, we both die." I said, evenly. "And I can read you, I know you don't really want to die."
He stared hard at me, then finally, he spoke. "You died."
"Hummm, no, probably not." I returned.
"Yes, you did." He snarled.
"Oh! I did, didn't I? Goodbye!" I replied, sarcastically, but didn't move.
"How... how are you here?" He asked. I could see the uncertainty on his face.
"Oh come now. You're a smart guy, well, relatively. Figure it out yourself." I prodded him.
"Tell me how you did it." He insisted.
"That's not what's important. Tell me why you poisoned your own sister."
"First you need to tell me how, or at least why, you faked your death." He wasn't going to back down.
"Fine. I had no other choice. You know, I love her too, and your little friend Jim was going to kill her if I didn't kill myself." I replied. I saw uncertainty flash across his face again, and I went on before he had a chance to argue. "Did you even tell him (F/N) is your sister? No, I'll bet he knew, he just didn't care. He doesn't have friends, Sebastian. He used you."
"That's what they said about you!" He cut in.
I didn't allow this to faze me, although it was true. So often, especially before John, I was told, or others were told, that I had no friends or that I shouldn't make friends.
'He's a psychopath and psychopaths don't have friends.'
'He doesn't have friends, you need to just stay away from him.'
'Sentiment will destroy you, Sherlock.'
'You should've listened to your big brother...'
I shook my head, trying to forget.
"And they were wrong about me."
"Then how do I know you're not wrong about Jim? How do I know you're not just flat out lying?" He asked with a sneer.
"Think about it, Sebastian. When was he ever truly a friend to you?"
He faltered, unable to answer me.
"Why did you poison (F/N)?" I asked again when I realised he couldn't answer.
"Because I was angry." He responded.
"But why her?" I asked.
"Because you were dead. I really just wanted to kill you." He cocked his gun and re-aimed it at my forehead. "And now I can."