Bored (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

AMELIA'S POV

I woke up earlier than usual the next morning, so I decided it wouldn't hurt to go take a walk. Hopping out of bed, I grabbed some jeans and a black tank top and slipped them on. Noticing that no one else was awake, I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door.

"Where are you going?" I turned around, startled.

"Oh, hi Sherlock. I was just taking a walk. You want to come with?" I asked, smiling up at him from the sidewalk. He leaned against the door frame.

"Fine," he agreed, grabbing his coat and scarf before walking outside with me. "Why are you taking a walk? You never take walks."

"I dunno. I needed to do something normal for a change. You know, instead of stay at the flat listening to you and John argue like a married couple," I explained. I glanced up at Sherlock, who was staring in the distance. Just as I was about to continue talking, my phone buzzed. I took it out of my pocket and noticed that Sherlock was still staring off into space.

Time's a ticking... ~JM

I stopped where I was before walking into an alleyway. Sherlock didn't notice and kept walking past.

What do you mean? ~AM

Meet me in ten minutes. Room 113. ~JM

I paused, leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath. Room 113 was the hotel room James and I had stayed at once before. I groaned inwardly, deciding to leave a text for John in case anything bad happened.

If all else fails, Room 113. ~AM

A moment later John responded.

What is that supposed to mean? ~JW

Just a note for future reference. ~AM

I put my phone in my pocket before walking out of the alley. I waved to a cab, which pulled over. I got in quickly before giving him the address. When we reached the hotel, I stood outside, unsure of what I was going to say. I pulled out my phone again when I got another text from James.

Richard Brooks. ~JM

I nodded to the phone before slipping it in my jacket pocket and opening the doors of the hotel. The woman at the front desk smiled. Around 22, just got engaged to her boyfriend of two years, and has two pet dogs.

"Hello, I'm here to see Richard Brooks. He's in room 113," I explained, pretending to be nervous.

"Yes, can you please put your name on the sign in sheet? Thank you. Just go up those stairs to the top floor. It will be the last door in your right."

After signing in, I hurried up the stairs and paused when I reached the top. When I got to the last door on the right, I opened it slowly, scared of what I might see.

"What are you waiting for?" Moriarty asked, lounging on the couch in the center of the room. "Come in!"

I closed the door behind me, hearing it click shut. Walking over towards James, I sat down in an armchair to his left.

"What did you want to talk about?" I sneered, glaring at him.

"I want you to make a choice. Either you let me kill you, or your little friends die. Your choice," Moriarty whispered in my ear, making chills run down my back.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, already knowing what I was going to do. I couldn't let my friends die.

"I'm doing this because I'm not going to let my emotions get in the way. I have to eliminate them," Moriarty explained, grinning that signature grin of his.

"Kill me then. I don't want you to hurt them," I replied, standing up and staring him in the eyes. I knew he never did the dirty work, but I knew I was the only exception. He wanted me dead, but he wanted to kill me himself. Just as he was pulling the trigger, I heard the door slam open and I saw James turn to look, lowering the gun slightly so when the bullet shot, it went into my side instead of through my heart. He looked slightly shocked, and he ran off somewhere out of my view. The last thing I saw before everything faded away was Sherlock racing to my side.

SHERLOCK'S POV

"Amy?" I asked, turning to look beside me. I frowned. She must have gone in some shop or remembered she had to be somewhere. I shrugged, turning around to go back home. I pulled out my phone when it vibrated, seeing a message from John on the screen.

Is Amy with you? ~JW

No. Why? ~SH

She sent me this strange text. She said "If all else fails, Room 113. ~AM". ~JW

I frowned, rubbing my temples and trying to think. Room 113 was the room number of a hotel, but which one?

If it helps any there's a hotel with Room 113 reserved under the name of Richard Brooks. ~JW

I mentally groaned. Amy, what have you done?