Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 11 (Rosie's POV)

It's exam result day and I both am extremely excited and nervous. Putting that quickly to a side, Sherlock still hasn't said what was in Sylvia's files. Hopefully, he will tell me and John soon. I rush getting ready this morning as I am frantic to get to school. Sherlock decides to help me by making me breakfast again and getting my bag and shoes ready. They both join me in the living room whilst I am putting my bag on. "Good luck Rosie, have a wonderful day and we'll see you later. There'll be a party when you get back and some celebratory cake! I love you darling." Dad says warmly embracing me in a hug which Sherlock decides to join. "Good luck Rosie. I know you'll do great. Don't forget to call us when you receive your results. And yes I agreed to have a party just because I love you." I look up to him and a smile is spread over his face which I return to him. Dad kisses me on the cheek and Sherlock kisses my head lightly patting my back. "The game, Rosie, is on!"
"Yes it is. Bye guys, I love you both. Catch you later."

I practically jump up the stairs in an excitable rush to classroom 223. Swinging open the door I burst in a little too loudly. "Oops, sorry." I say wincing. Mr Woodbridge laughs and I join him at his desk. "That's ok, Rosie I do indeed have your results." He says excitedly getting up out of his seat and getting a letter out from a pile on one of the shelfs, putting it in front of me. Before I can touch the envelope I am stopped by a ring tone going off. It's Stayin' alive from the Bee Gees which I find quite a bop. Rolling his eyes, he grabs his phone out of his pocket. "Sorry. Do you mind if I get that?" He answers the call. "No of course, we have the rest of the tutor."
"Wait." He says to the person on the other end, holding the phone down to his side. "Sorry this is really important, I might be a while. Just open the letter, I don't want to keep you waiting." He gestures to the letter, and places his phone back against his ear and walks out the class. Well that was inconvenient. Shrugging it off, I stand up and take the letter holding it in my hands. A strange smell is protruding from it but it must just be Mr Woodbridge's mouldy food beside me. I rip open the envelope and pull out the letter and as I do an overwhelming wave of a chemical smell strikes me in the face. The letter is blank apart from two single words: 'Miss me?'. I feel extremely light headed and my head turns to cotton wool as my eyesight grows blurrier by the second. My legs threaten to give way beneath me as I feel so weak and of sudden exhaustion. I grab onto Mr Woodbridge's desk for support but fail to do so as I collapse to the floor, bringing several books and papers with me. I am utterly incapable of doing anything. Chloroform. I've been drugged. Laying there defenceless, I hear the door swing open and a distant Irish accent from what I can make out. "Tut tut. Dear me Miss Watson, dear me." With my last strength I roll my eyes over and see a disfigured Mr Woodbridge. And with my final breath I weakly let out, "M-r Woo-d-bri-dge, wh-a-t ar-e y-ou d-oi-ng?" I make out the soft words of "Sweet dreams Miss Watson." My eyelids feel like heavy weights forcing their way down which they succeed in doing, causing me to plunge into darkness.

(Plot twist! Sorry guys I'm mean. Who guessed that it was Moriarty from the start or before this chapter, let me know in the comments!)