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...


39. The New Boy on the Block

I feel a tug at my heart when I walk out the door of 221B after a long heart-to-heart Sherlock and John. Sherlock had not explained how he faked his death, but he did explain that Moriarty was going to kill everyone if he didn't. I was a little upset that he didn't tell us how he did it, and perhaps he never will; a magician always keeps his secrets.

I decide to take a little stroll around Trafalgar Square before I head back to PJ's. Orange and brown leaves scatter in the wind and dance in the air, reminding me of the time I danced with Phil and when he thought I looked like "a proud lioness". I chuckle at the memory, my cheeks turning slightly pink at the thought of Phil thinking I was pretty, and also from the sudden chill that scratched at my face. My long blonde hair blows right in front of my line of vision, and I automatically try to pull it away from my eyes before I run into someone.


I finally sweep the last bits of hair out of my face to reveal that I had run into a young man with short, styled brown hair and beautiful colour changing eyes, very similar to PJ's. One minute they were light brown, the next a sort of dark green, next a blue-ish gray, then just gray all together.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" He says before I can even open my mouth to apologize.

"No, it really should be me saying sorry," I explain. "My hair got blown in my face and I couldn't really see where I was going." I scratch the back of my head and give him a grin. He returns it, chuckling a bit to himself.

"TROYE!" We hear someone yell across the way. The boy turns his head, and I also turn to see a girl with a bright blue pixie-cut, waving at the boy who's name, I guess, was Troye.

"COMING NAOMI! JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE!" He shouts back at her. "What's your name?" He asks quickly.

"Rachel. I would naturally assume your name is-"

"Troye, yeah." He gives me a shy smile. He takes my hand and shakes. "Well, I hope I run into you again soon - but not literally."

I laugh. "Same here." He releases my hand and starts jogging to Naomi. I see him talk to her, and am suddenly turns towards me, not the happiest expression covering her face. Troye waves, and I wave back. Naomi clearly isn't pleased by this, and she turns on her heels and walks away. Troye just looks over at me and shrugs, then dashes after her.

What's her problem? I wonder. Are they in a relationship? If they are, was she jealous or something?

"Okay, PJ isn't nearly as cute as that boy."

I turn to see Sophie, all bundled up in her coat and scarf, holding a coffee cup in her gloved hands. "What are you doing here?" I inquire.

"I was just taking a stroll, then I saw you talking to that really cute boy...don't worry, I won't tell PJ." She winks, and we both laugh. We start to walk around the square, talking and catching up with what's happening in our lives. I'm reluctant to tell her about Sherlock, wondering if she'll even believe me. I think I'll leave PJ to explain that to her, I assure myself, as Sophie starts to drag on about the latest news and gossip about celebrities.



I finally get back to PJ's apartment and collapse on the couch. I rub under my eyes with my ocean-colored sweater sleeves, and kick off my old black combat boots.

"And where were you this morning?" PJ asks as he comes out of the kitchen with sly smirk and a slice of pizza on a paper plate.

"I was visiting Sherlock." I reply. PJ swallows a bite of pizza with a huge gulp. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, as if he was searching for the right words to say.

"...Did he...did he explain why he vanished?" He inquires.

"...Not exactly." I start. "He didn't tell us any specific details, but he did tell me that we all would've been dead if he hadn't faked his death." I pause before I say what I have in mind, wondering if it would upset PJ, but it comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Sherlock did say, however...that Moriarty hired assassins to take us out if he didn't jump."

PJ's eyes widen as he sets his pizza on the coffee table. "Do you think he knows that I'm..." I put a hand up before I can let him finish. I rise from my spot on the couch and walk over to take his now slightly trembling hands.

I look him straight in his eyes, whose colour was now a light shade of blue. "You aren't one, PJ. You aren't a killer; not anymore." I kiss him, and I feel a tear as I cup his face with my hands. We separate, and I brush away the lone tear with my thumb.

"You know I forgive you for what happened, right?"

PJ nods slowly.

We kiss again, and I can feel a small smile form on his lips as we part.

"I love you Rachel Wilson, you know that?"

I giggle just a bit and put my head against his chest, listening for the beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. "Yes," I reply. "Yes, I do."

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