I've been running all my life. Away from the horrid memories of the sacrifices my mother made to protect me, and to protect my name from this evil world we live in...
But everything's changed...
I've recently found out my mother was murdered by a psychopath; choosing the wrong pill in a game of chance that would give away her secret. That gave away my name.
That cost her her life...
I heard a man named Sherlock Holmes had solved my mother's case along with others who had fallen of the same fate. I must find him so I can warn him: for he does not know what he has gotten himself into...


18. Last Resorts & Warning Shots

After PJ finally leaves, I go over to John & Sherlock's flat. PJ mentioned something while we were kissing that they wanted to see me.

I walk in to the small suprise of Mycroft sitting on the couch. He stands as I enter and smiles, as for himself being the proper gentleman that he is, then sits back down as John gestures towards his own chair for me to sit. I attempt to cringe very little at the pain so that everyone will think I'm at ease. Sherlock and Mycroft, however, see right through my little act, but say nothing. I tell them everything about what happened, and John comforts me when I start to tear up.

"And...this man...did he say his name?" Sherlock asks when I am finished with my story.

"Yes..." I sniffle as I try to recall his name. "His name was...Sebastian Moran, I believe." Sherlock and Mycroft tense up at the mention of his name. John and I turn to face each other: we've never seen Sherlock or Mycroft this way before.

Sherlock sighs nervously. "Sebastian Moran is the second most dangerous man in the world." He looks me straight in the eyes. "Perfect sniper, never misses his target when assigned one...and, he is the supposed right hand man of James Moriarty." I swallow hard when he finishes his sentence.

"Moriarty's main henchman is...my father?" I say in utter disbelief. Sherlock nods his head glumly. I feel tears form in my eyes, but I stay strong. "But, that doesn't explain the other woman that was there."

Sherlock freezes, as if he had seen a ghost of his past.

Perhaps he had.

"That woman was The Woman, Ms. Wilson." Mycroft answers gravely. "Surely you've read the blog." I nod; I knew exactly who she was now...but....

"I thought she would be prettier." I manage to get a chuckle out of John and Mycroft, but Sherlock looks slightly offended. I could still see, however, that he was glad I was bringing joy into a dark conversation.

John hugs me from behind the chair and pecks my cheek.

"We're glad to have you back, Rachel...we missed you so much..."


Later John explains over lunch that they found me by Sherlock getting a text from The Woman herself: 'Your newest pet is running in the forest ;)' At the reading of this text, I felt slightly offended.

"I'm not his pet! Neither are you, John; if anything you & I keep Sherlock's eyes fixed on the prize when he gets distracted or carried away with something. She needs to get a grip and realize that."

"Well, she thinks I'm gay for Sherlock, so that's why she sees me as a 'pet' to him." My face scrunches up at the disturbing thought of John being Sherlock's sex toy...

"Well, I know that you aren't gay, and Sherlock is just asexual, so..." John smiles a friendly smile as I nom on the last bits of my sandwich.


After a couple of weeks with the "guard" schedule redone (two people watching me at the same time and no more makeout sessions with PJ), things started turning back to normal. I helped out Mrs. Hudson around 221B, not to mention did the occasional house-keeping for John & Sherlock's flat. I started working at the sandwhich shop again, getting the ocassional lunch visits from John and having the even rarer secret picnics with PJ. I still getting menacing texts from unknown numbers, but every time one was sent the boys increased security measures by 150%.

One day, after I got one of these texts, John was looking as if he was done with everything to do with me right now. The next thing I know, he grabs my wrist and his P99 pistol, and we set off on the long walk to the forest that PJ & I have picnics near.

He finally releases my wrist, and tells me to sit down on a log nearby.

"Rachel," He says in a stern tone of voice. "I think it's time I teach you how to use a gun."

I look at him, a little bit shocked, but as soon as I open my mouth to ask why, he answers for me.

"As a last defense."


I was now standing in front of John, his warm, rough hands over my soft, mildly cold ones. He shows my how to turn the safety on and off, and we practice shooting on a few trees.


My ears began hurt like crazy, but it was for the best (at least that's what John said).



There was only one thing that was running through my mind after we stopped shooting.

What would be my last act of defense?


John holds me tight until we get back to Baker Street.

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