Walking Toward the End

Emma had a couple cuts and bruises, the worst on her left eyebrow, which needed a couple stitches, but most of the pain seemed to be emotional.
Lestrade took Emma to question her about the kidnapping, while Sherlock watched through the one-way glass as I read a book on the Titanic.
"It's obvious who sent him," Sherlock stated.
"Is it?" I murmured.
"Moriarty."
"It's starting again."
"How did he get you?" Lestrade asked Emma.
"I- I don't know. I got off the Ferris wheel and there was this...smell. Then I woke up in the chair."
"Smelling salts," Sherlock muttered.
"We've got Anderson interrogating your kidnapper,"
"Won't get anything," Sherlock sighed and went in.
I decided to help Anderson.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.
"I'll take it from here, Anderson," I held the door for him.
"No! This is my case."
I glared as I took a step toward him. "You'll let me interrogate him or I might just tell your wife how you "accidentally lost" her diamond necklace. Don't think you can beat me, Anderson, you know all too well how Sherlock and I are alike."
With a huff of exasperation, Anderson left the room, no doubt watching me.
"Let's start with names," I suggested. "I'm Evie. Yours?"
"Reiner," he snapped.
I rolled my eyes, "a last name. Not your real one, of course. That doesn't matter, though. You're working for Moriarty. What's he doing?"
He sat there silently.
"Okay, let me try this again," I muttered, "why did you do it?"
It was then I noticed the tiny, clear earpiece that was left in his ear.
"Very nice, Moriarty," I took it in my hand and hissed into it,
"You've just hurt someone I love, and that is not a safe place to stand. I will defend my friends until my very last breath, something you could never understand. So don't play games with me."
I crushed it under my foot.
"So you take my friend, completely unarmed, and decide to keep her in a room with a sword. Not the best plan. You had to have the sticker ready, but why give me a clue to where she is?"
I remembered something my teacher told me once. Everyone has their price. It dawned on me.
"He threatened you," I concluded, "but you wanted me to find her. So you chose the one room in the house I was guaranteed to beat you while you still looked good in front of the boss."
Then I heard Sherlock's voice.
"Idiot"
I looked around before I noticed it was my phone.
I'm leaving. -SH
I scrunched my eyebrows.
I'm coming. What the heck did you do to my phone?-EO
Experiment

I met Sherlock and Emma outside and we got a taxi back to Baker Street.
"He was threatened," I told them.
"But...why did he want me?" Emma asked.
"He's trying to get to us," I muttered, "but not directly. Strapping John to a bomb and kidnapping Emma. It's like he's trying to hurt us emotionally."
For the first time since I'd known him, Sherlock was silent. He wasn't ignoring us, he wasn't lost in his thought or pretending not to hear. He was holding something back.
-x-
By the time we got back, it was one in the morning. We'd been questioning longer than I thought. I must have spent a long time reading.

Emma and I were exhausted, so I layed out some blankets for her in my room.
"Evie?" She said, "don't do anything stupid."
"I try my best not to be stupid," I replied, "but you aren't safe. You have to go home."
She sucked in a breath to argue, but I shut off the lights and climbed under my covers.
-x-

I woke up early that morning and arranged a flight for Emma the next day. Afterward I started my blog.
"The Sleeping Corpse?" Sherlock criticized from behind me.
"You know, I think I have a bell in my room," I swatted his arm.
"We're going to Baskerville today," he said.
"And you're telling me this now?" I glared at him.
"You were asleep earlier," he picked up his violin.
"What about Emma?" I asked.
"She can go home," he plucked at the strings.
"Her home is on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean."
"So?"
I groaned and went back to typing.

-x-

We made our way through the eerily foggy woods. Emma was back at a cafe waiting for us. She attempted to refuse, but I didn't want her getting hurt anymore.
"Sherlock?" John said, looking at something in the distance.
Some bush rustled in the distance and I could hear it quickening, getting farther away.
"Come on," I pushed past him, not wanting to loose whatever was moving.

My torch cast a dim glow on the trees around us. Sherlock and Henry had turned onto a different path, following something Henry heard. Meanwhile, I was getting closer to what I was following. A bush shook to my right.
Don't go, I told myself, don't be a stupid horror movie person. Wait for the others
I cursed myself and went through the bush.

I wasn't really expecting to see the hound Henry described. Maybe a wolf or a stray dog, but what I saw surprised me more than anything.
"D-Dad?"
My hands trembled. Standing there was my father with leaves and twigs in his sandy-blonde hair and bloodshot blue eyes with a wild fire in them. What scared me most, though, was the gun in his hand.
He ducked through a gap in the foliage with me following behind. My dad lead me into a cave, where I heard growling.
"Don't...don't go in there," I warned.
He ignored me and pressed on.
I stayed at the mouth of the cave, staring into the darkness. He couldn't be here.
I gasped at a gunshot. Barking broke through the momentary silence from inside the cave and I couldn't resist the urge to run towards it.
"Dad?" I shouted.
I came to a halt. He was standing over someone. I shined my torch at him, pointing the gun at the broken body.
"What...what did you do?"
I walked around him, and my heart crawled into my throat. He'd shot Sherlock.
"No!" I screamed. "You idiot!"
I heard wolves howl in the distance.