Once Upon Another Time (Third Book In The "Life Is But A Dream" Saga)

The Point of No Return: Part Two

I opened my eyes and took in a sharp inhale, feeling my whole body shiver with cold sweats. My arm was heavily bandaged, and I only wore my undershirt with my drying jeans under a bedspread. I couldn't contain my shaking breaths, and wanted to be as far from this place as possible. My limbs felt like sand, and my mind began to calm like the eye of a storm. My phone felt nowhere on my person, and was not on the desk next to me, so I couldn't communicate with Sherlock.

Sherlock.

I know now why he didn't want me knowing the truth, but at the same time, I resented him for not telling me anything sooner. I fell back into the pillow and thought of the detective, how he told me he was coming for me.

My eyes flew shut at the first sound of someone walking by the room, and I felt my body freeze in fear. It felt like I was breathing in a cold nothing, and that made my heart race with anxiety.

Suddenly I was that girl from two years ago, and farther back, who was trapped under a pool, cornered in a street alley, and alone in a hospital cafeteria. With my eyes closed I thought of every encounter I had with Moriarty before his death- what I thought was his death. He was always so curious and nosy to me, I just thought he harassed me because of my relation to Sherlock. That thought still lingered in my mind too: was this all a ploy?

I wanted to understand so many things- when did Sherlock figure it out? Has he always known? Why didn't either of them say anything sooner? Did John know? Does Mycroft know? What will happen to me if they find out he is alive and my relation to him?

The thoughts buzzing around my head were so loud I couldn't hear my breathing, and I rushed my hands to my head to press them out, releasing a sob. Although I didn't want to believe this, deep deep down it made sense. The sob was followed by a crisp, cold breath, and I opened my eyes and tried to keep further tears of fear from falling. Removing my hands, I focused on the white ceiling and tried to calm my chaotic mind.

Protesting my aching arm, I sat up on the soft bed, and saw my jumper draped over the doorknob of the bedroom wardrobe. Gently scooting off the bed, I reached for it and tenderly slid my bandages arm in, and then the other, wrapping myself in the dark red knit material. I needed to find my phone and get in contact with Sherlock. I had no idea where Wes was, so he was my only ticket out of here.

Gently, my sock-coated feet paced to the door, slightly open but opening it further was masked by the sound of the rain outside. That was another thing- the room was nearly dark, except for the gray light coming in from outside.

I looked through a slit in the door and saw no one, but a small hallway that leads to the stairs to the living quarters of the flat.

Trying to ignore my pounding heart, I slithered out of the room and into an adjacent closet, hiding if someone were to walk by. Downstairs I could hear someone's voice, along with the pacing of feet. It was too muffled for me to hear, but I was too busy pressing a hand against my chest and trying to get to a steady breathing pattern. All of this felt so out- of body, I wanted to die. Nothing felt real.

I shut my eyes and exited the closet- only to run into a man. I nearly cried out before they covered my mouth with their hand a shoved me back in the closet.

"Bloody hell, Aspen." The voice of Sherlock says, and I focused and noticed his crisp blue eyes wide with concern. Hot breaths escaped my mouth and onto his hand, which he slowly removed from my face, and instead cradled my head with care. "I-"

"He's alive." I said, my words shaky. Tears filled my eyes and my hands shook violently. I couldn't breathe in the tiny space, and nearly suffocated when Sherlock pulled me into a soft embrace. His raincoat was damp with the scent of rain, but I buried my tearful face in it anyway. "Tell me it isn't true." I begged.