One Interesting Girl - Season 1 [Sherlock x OC]

Chapter 9- Gunshots and Shock Blankets

Me and my big mouth.

Here I am. Staring down a psycho "genius" with a Gun, sitting next to the world's only Consulting Detective. Who would've ever thought that moving to London for my dream job would result in me getting dragged into a murder mystery that might just be the end of me? Honestly, not something I'd put on my bucket list.

"You can take a 50-50 chance, or I can shoot you both in the head." The cabby threatens us.

A gun. Of course it's a gun. It's always a fucking gun.

"Y'know for a self-claimed genius, your not very original here." I remark, never taking my eye off the gun in the man's hand, analyzing him to see if I can disarm him in anyway.

"Funnily enough, no-ones ever gone for that option." The cabby responds.

"Well of course, no one has. In a life or death situation, you would obviously take the choice that,  you believe, gives you the best chance at survi-"

"I'll have the gun,please." Sherlock proceeds to cut me off, smiling brightly at the cabby.

"Of course, unless your Sherlock fucking Holmes." I finish my statement, turning to glare at the man next to me.

This is it. This is truly the day I die. I'll never get married. I'll never be a mother. Figaro is going to become a street cat.

"Are you sure?" The cabby asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sherlock," I whisper-yell to him. "I would very much prefer to live to feed my cat, thank you."

"Definitely. The gun."

Sherlock still has that stupid smirk on his face and I want to do nothing more than slap it off him. I try my hardest to look brave, probably failing horribly. At least it's Sherlock first. That might buy me some time to find John.

"You don't want to confer with your counterpart here? I think she may be on the verge of a panic attack."

It's at that point Sherlock finally seems to acknowledge me. Glancing over to me, as I shake silently in my chair, all of my focus has gone into breathing normally and not letting the flashbacks return.

There it is again, that flash of emotion that I cannot place.

"I'm fine, Sherlock." I whispered trying to convince him that I'm fine. "I trust your call."

Sherlock nods and turns his attention back to the man threatening our lives.

"The gun." He states confidently, not breaking eye contact.

I brace myself for the noise, when all that comes is a slight click. I can practically feel the smirk that I know is on Sherlock's face as I look up to see that the "weapon" I was so terrified of, was actually a lighter shaped like a gun. A sigh of relief leaves me as I feel what's left of my soul return to my body.

"I know a real gun when I see one." Sherlock snidely replies.

"None of the others did. Not even Ms. Maddox here." The cabby responds, sounding bored.