Sherlock is Actually a Girl's Name: A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter 4

A/N: And this is where Jane finally makes her entrance! I was wondering how to introduce Jane/John Watson since in the show, he comes back from a traumatic experience in Afghanistan. I came up with this. Trigger warning for violence. Okay, I'm done. *waltzes away*

BBC News August 27th, 5:52 pm

We interrupt this program to take a closer look on what happened in Brookston today. All seemed normal when at about 9:00 this morning there was a shooting at Brookston High School.

The shooter, identified as Aaron Miles, went to his class just like any other day. Then, according to survivors, he pulled two illegally obtained handguns out of his backpack and began to fire on the students. All evidence points to him then killing himself before anyone could arrive. 

Of the ten injured victims, seven are in critical condition. Six students between the ages of fourteen and fifteen and their teacher, Elena Rose, 47, were killed. Today the United Kingdom mourns this tragedy. At 7pm tonight, the Prime Minister will make an address live on national television. 

I saw it all. 

The shooting. The loud bang of metal firing, not stopping. 

Never stopping. 

The sound echoes in my mind, accompanied by images of my classmates, wide-eyed with fear. Dripping with pain, shock. Blood.

If was just another fucking day of math class. Mrs. Rose, her eccentric, lopsided bun and clicking heels, scolding students who didn't do their homework. 

Aaron Miles was late. Again. It had become a usual thing. He came in, dark shadows under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in a month. He shut the door with an unintentionally loud bang, which automatically locked behind him. 

Mrs. Rose giving him looks of steel daggers. Rising from her seat, heels clicking as she went to tell him off for being late - again. 

Any other time he would have mumbled apologies and quickly ducked into his seat, but today, something snapped inside him. 

"Do you think," he seethed, "That I would fucking care about your class?! I'm sick of this shit! I'm sick of school. I'm sick of my parents. And I'm sick of anyone - especially you - making my life a living hell! You know what? I'm done with you. Fuck this. Fuck you all. I"M DONE." 

I saw it. Her look of exasperation and anger turning into one of disbelief and horror. 

We never did correct our math assignment. 

He shot her first. Straight through the heart. Then he turned on us. 

Everything else was a blur. Seconds seemed to last for hours. It was like a horror movie, one that would never end. 

I don't remember much of what happened. Miles had begun shooting at anyone he could see. I remember being shot in the shoulder,  missing my heart by mere inches. The door handle started to rattle; another teacher must have heard and was trying to get us. 

But he was too focused on getting the kids in front of him. He didn't notice a particular blonde girl drag herself behind him, shoulder dripping blood, but with a furious rage in her eyes. He didn't know until he was pinned to the floor from behind, gun knocked out of his hand. 

He didn't see the girl pick up the gun. His mind was in a daze from being knocked down. 

I didn't think. My dad taught me well, I suppose.

Pick up the gun, and fire.

So I picked it up.

And I fired.