Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Vengeful Reconciliation

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN: VENGEFUL RECONCILIATION

A/n: Brief author's note, but did anyone A) notice that the banter between Sherlock and John in the last chapter was based off Tony and Steve's talk in the Avengers when they realise Loki's plan? B) That Sherlock has not said that he loves Amelia (out loud anyway) while Amelia has said it out loud but not directly to Sherlock's face? That's very important. Remember that. One last thing: listen to Leave Out All The Rest by Linkin Park while reading this chapter. I'll put it in the external link to the side. And Sherlia's engagement ring is to the side as well.

~Midnight, number 3 Brixton, Lauriston Gardens~

 Sherlock's mind was racing at a pace it had never run before. One wrong move and he, John, and Amelia would be shot. They had to tread lightly and carefully. He'd chosen this as their meeting place with a reason; if Moriarty had indeed been keeping a careful eye on Sherlock, John, and Amelia the entire time, he'd know that this was the first case Sherlock and John had ever been on.

Sherlock hadn't felt these emotions that churned inside him for quite some time now. Not since Redbeard at least. He wasn't sure if the emotions he currently had were a good thing or a bad thing. Certainly, it motivated him, but it also hindered his abilities to make logical and rational decisions.

But Sherlock knew if he returned back to his old sociopathic ways, no one would forgive him. Not Lestrade, not Amelia, not Mrs. Hudson, not Molly, and most definitely not John. Correction—Molly would forgive him but only if the two of them engaged in a relationship, and then Sherlock would be back where he started.

Emotions were confusing.

"Sherlock, this is a really bad idea." John hissed as they stood outside of the house. John contained a shiver at the odd sense of déjà vu that struck him, although he sincerely hoped the events wouldn't unfold like they had in a Study in Pink. Because if they did, it meant that it would be Amelia's corpse lying face down in the room, a note scratched into the floor.

At least they'd know who killed her, although it wouldn't change the fact that she was dead.

John shook his head clear of these violent thoughts, momentarily disgusted with the fact that he'd thought all that up. Under any other circumstances, he'd be quite worried but it was Amelia in there, and Sherlock was going to save her. Hopefully.

"Shut up," Sherlock turned around and snapped at John.

"I was thinking!"

"Yes, but you're also getting quite stressed." Sherlock replied smoothly, "Presumably because you're thinking of all the ways that this could go wrong. Or that this resembles our first case together. Nonetheless, stress and nerves are never a good thing to have when you're faced with a criminal mastermind."

"Sherlock, you can't get mad at people for thinking!" John reprimanded sternly, groaning as he realised the consulting detective was already walking away, his coat trailing behind him in the mild wind, "Jesus Christ, Sherlock, can you even hear me? Are you listening?"

Sherlock paused at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the doctor, "Hear? Yes. Listening? No."

"For God's sake, Sherlock!" John said in exasperation, "Now is not the time to be clever! Amelia—my sister and whatever the hell she is to you—is in danger from Moriarty. Why can you not grasp the severity of this bloody situation?!"

"I very much understand the severity of the situation, John," Sherlock said, completely unfazed, "However, if I let myself fret, none of us will be leaving this building alive. Do you understand me?"