Walking Toward the End

I didn't know where we were going until Sherlock got out at the hospital. He lead the way to the morgue as Molly and John jogged to catch up with us. That woman from the field picture was laying on a table.
Molly left for a few minutes, coming back with a clipboard.
"The reports are back," she announced.
Sherlock leaned over her shoulder as his eyes skimmed the paper.
"She was drugged," he said.

We were about to leave so Molly could get back to her work when the television turned on. It had a picture of the empty field, with the words, "GO BACK" spelled across the screen.
"I think someone wants us back at the football field," I said.
Sherlock sped off and got another cab before John and I were even at the curb.
"Brilliant" John muttered as he hailed another.
We climbed in and he told the driver the address.

-x-

I paid the cabbie this time as we climbed out. Sherlock was already racing around the field, trying to figure out why we had to be there. John went to look also as I strolled along. I unfocused my eyes in case something was supposed to catch it; I found not looking at anything really helped. I was about to give up after half an hour when I saw something glistening in the grass. I stepped over it and plucked it up. A golden bullet casing. I brushed the dirt off and turned it around, revealing one name:
"OWENS"
My hands trembled.
"Sherlock," my voice was a whisper. I was in shock. I gained a bit of strength again and screamed, "Sherlock!"
Sherlock and John came running.
"What is it?" John asked.
I pushed the casing into his hands and flopped onto the ground, muttering, "no, no, no." I put my head between my knees.
They both looked confused. John reached out his hand and helped me up.
"What is it?" He asked.
"It's my last name," I explained. "Someone is looking for me."
"Who?" He pressed.
"I don't know," I admitted, "only that they want me dead."
Sherlock was inspecting it. He turned it, flipped it, rubbed it, until he finally muttered, "Moriarty."
"What?" John asked, "No. He doesn't even know her."
Sherlock's eyes flared. He slipped the casing into his pocket and ran off.
Of course, we followed. We were able to all get into the same cab for once as we headed back to Baker Street.
"It's from a show," I said after a brief silence, "the casing. My class went to America for a while to study abroad. We had a lot of assignments, so we didn't get out as much as we'd have liked, so that left a lot of time for t.v. We loved watching Hawaii Five-O."
They still didn't get it. Apparently, they've never heard of it.
I sighed, "It used to play years back. They started it again. It's about a police team, Five-O, they investigate murders. There's one fan-favorite episode that they redid. The murderer was a sharpshooter that used one bullet, the casing had the victim's surname engraved on it."
I held out my hand for it from Sherlock. "They found out who it was partially by the handwriting. They could tell by the small overlapping part where it starts and ends that the 'O' was started at the bottom, and hardly anyone starts at the bottom of the letters. This one has it at the top, so it isn't a perfect replica. They were just trying to get a point across."

John stared at me. "What?" I asked.
"That sounded like a Sherlock deduction," he said. "What is it with you two?"
I shook my head and handed the casing back to Sherlock.
"You could go into protective custody," Sherlock suggested, "if you feel unsafe."
"And miss all this?" I laughed, "no way."

I saw a hint of pleasure in his eyes for a second before it faded.