Partners In Crime: Watch Them Fall Apart [COMPLETED]

Chapter 14: Ashes to Ashes

"So tell me, little wolf, do you want to punish those who have wronged you?"

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Beth knew something was wrong when she woke up alone.

She never woke up without James. He would always wake her up after he got dressed, or simply lay in bed with her and hold her to "keep her safe". The few times he had to go before she could wake up, he would always leave a note. It had always been the best highlight of her day.

But today there was no note. No sign that he was in the house at all. Beth bit her lip nervously, sitting up, her hair falling down to the middle of her back.

"Jamie?" she called, hoping that perhaps he was simply in the other room. That had happened once. He had left her one morning for just a second to get her a glass of coffee before she woke up. Yet only that time, he had come sprinting back the moment she called him. Today he simply wasn't home.

"James?" her voice was just a little louder. Yet again, there was no reply.

She finally stood up, forcing the sleep from her tired eyes. She was dressed in shorts and an oversized shirt. She padded down the stairs with bare feet, groggily calling out his name one more time.

He wasn't home.

Something was horribly wrong.

She cursed, clearing the sleepy crash from her body and bounding back up the stairs, changing into proper clothes as fast as she could.

She had to be prepared for anything. She needed a weapon. Sprinting to the nightstand on James' side of the bed, she threw open the drawer.

The pistol wasn't there.

Her world crashed around her.

Only she and James knew about that pistol. That means James had taken it. But why would he need his pistol? He always let her know when he took it. Usually she would be right next to him when he used it on some poor sucker. Why would he need it now?

That was when Beth realized something else was wrong. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon. She never woke up this late.... She could taste something metallic in her mouth. Her limbs felt heavier than usual when she woke up.

She hadn't woken up this late because she needed sleep. She had been drugged. But by who? No one should be here besides her and Moran.

She focused more on the exact feelings she had. Groggy, but alright. Heavy limbs. Her eyelids felt like weights about to close and send her tumbling back into sleep. She sort of recognized the feeling. It was sort of like common anesthetic in hospitals. The kind that had been used on her for a few surgeries over the years.

She began looking for the anesthetic itself. She had found it 5 minutes later, hidden in one of James' pairs of jeans that he never really wore. Well, it was two things.

A container of nitrous oxide, and diazepam. That was what she had been drugged with. And James had been the one to drug her.

She couldn't believe it.

"Moran!" she called, sprinting through the house to his room.

"Beth!" he met her at the door, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"James. I can't find James. He's not here. His pistol is gone. He drugged me! Basher, I-" She stopped, examining his face. He wasn't surprised. In fact, he looked saddened. "Bash? Are you in on this?" her lip trembled.

He didn't respond.

"You are." she said matter of factly. Her voice went cold. "Sebastian Augustus Moran, tell me where my husband is and what he is doing. Or," she grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt, her face an inch from his, "I will filet your skin from your body, and force feed it to you with a spoon made from your own bones."

He gulped nervously. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry, Lizbeth. He insisted."

She growled her response hatefully, "Tell me where, or else."

"I... I can't." He nervously looked to his right, towards the direction of St. Barts hospital.

Beth sighed, "He's at Barts, isn't he?"

Again, no answer. She sprinted out the door. Moran was hot on her heels. He was trying to stop her.

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Sherlock had figured James out. No. James had done everything he could to stop him from understanding his motives. No. He was going to have to follow through with the plan.

Sherlock was standing maybe a foot away from him. Painfully close. Sherlock had probably heard James' phone vibrate every single time.

He knew each and every text and call was from Beth. She had always been such a smart woman. He had known she would figure part of his plan out. Of course she had seen how his gun was missing. Of course she had found the anesthetic. She had always been so good at figuring out things like that. His beautiful Beth. She was so smart and just so... her. She was his. She was his girl.

She was going to have to live without him. Sherlock had deduced his plans. His motives for all of this. He had to die. That was the only way to get Sherlock out of his way now.

There was another buzz from his phone, and this time Sherlock growled, "Just answer it."

James looked down at his voice mails, and clicked one, and let it play.

Beth's voice was shaky, and she sounded as if she was about to cry, "Jamie, I don't know what you're going to do, but please don't do it. I'm scared-" A shaky inhale, and a choked sob, "I think I know what you're going to do. Please. Don't. P-Please! I-I need you..."

James and Sherlock looked at each other. James didn't want to do it. He couldn't. He couldn't. No. No. NO.

He had to. Or else Sherlock would never stop trying to ruin his and Beth's lives. It had started as such a fun little game. But now the detective just wanted the criminal couple to burn at the electric chair. He couldn't let that happen.

He'd die, making it impossible for the sniper's aiming at Sherlock's friends not to fire. They'd only spare them if Sherlock died...

He had to do this. He looked over the side of the building, biting his lip tearfully. He could see Beth sprinting towards St. Barts, with Moran trying to stop her. That was Basher, so loyal. That was Beth, so determined... He couldn't think of that. All he had to do was save them from Sherlock's wrath.

Do it for Beth. Do it for Beth. DO IT FOR BETH. His mind was screaming.

Oh god, Beth... He thought. I love you...

In seconds, he was whipping out the pistol. He forced the barrel of it into his mouth. He had to save his wonderful wife. He had to keep her safe. Even if she had to go on without him. He needed her to be strong. She had to learn to live without him.

All of the thoughts went through his mind in seconds. Before Sherlock could stop him, he pulled the trigger.

His body went limp, falling onto the concrete of the roof. Blood slowly dripped from the wound.

Yet all Sherlock could hear was Beth's blood curdling scream as she heard the dreadful bang.

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ONE CHAPTER LEFT AND THEN A SNEAK PEAK TO THE NEXT BOOK

PLEASE DONT KILL ME

SONG AND VID ARENT MINE