First off let me say how sorry I am for leaving this so late! I've gone back to Uni and it has taken over my entire life for the past month and I have only just caught my breath! Thank you for being so patient with me!
As far as the story goes I want to continue it but I'm wondering whether to wait until there is a new episode (lol). I'm also undecided if I want to let Lily have a happy ending or not...

What do you guys think? Let me know in the review or a PM if that's easier?
Please enjoy and thank you again for waiting!

She was sitting in a cafe waiting on a message from Amalik when the news interrupted the awful daytime soap that was playing in the background. Her spoon dropped with a clatter as she read the headline, 'Consulting Detective Commits Suicide' and a few people began showing an interest in the news once they stopped staring at Lily. Eventually the owner turned the volume up and they listened, transfixed as the reporter clamored to get a juicy shot of where Sherlock hit the pavement but Lily was waiting...waiting for him to appear. Then the journalist made a startling announcement. Apparently there were rumours of a second body up on the roof - that of the poor, innocent Richard Brook. If her phone hadn't buzzed in her palm there was a good chance she would have passed out right there in the shabby little cafe. She exhaled deeply then answered the phone to a very happy Amalik.

"You will be very pleased to hear I have secured the cash you required my dear! Perhaps you would like to collect it sooner rather than later?" She couldn't have agreed more and made arrangements to meet Amalik later that afternoon in a cosy little hotel somewhere in Islington. She paid for her coffee and left the shop, her heavy rucksack slung over her shoulder and her mind reeling. There was no way she was going to believe he had killed himself. She would need to see it with her own eyes for proof. She wasn't even sure if the devil could be killed.


She arrived late to meet Amalik, but she had stopped off en route to meet him for some urgent supplies. A few streets away she fixed a long blonde wig that covered her own red hair and wrapped a thick heavy coat around her existing clothes. It was much far too hot for it but she deemed it necessary for the task at hand and set off. She called him from the lobby and he gave her a room number. The concierge stared at her for a moment but paid little attention once Lily stepped into the lift. Perfect.

Amalik was waiting in the room with two glasses of champagne ready; she had ditched the wig and coat in a nearby maid's closet in the hall so Amalik was none the wiser to her intentions. He seemed nervous and giddy at the same time and it struck her just how young he was. She almost felt sorry for him until he strode towards her and pushed her into the door she had just shut. "Now, now" she whispered and gently pushed him off her a little dropping her bag to the floor, "I want to make sure you've got what I asked for" she said and slowly swished past him towards the bedroom, looking around for the stash. He chuckled and followed her into the bedroom and lifted two shiny metal suitcases onto the thick mattress. He flicked them open and she couldn't help but be a little gob smacked. £50,000 was more money that she'd ever seen and she had a sudden urge to throw it all up in the air and roll around on it for hours. Instead she nodded with disinterested and shut the lids tightly hoping he didn't catch her shaking hands. "So my dear, shall we celebrate?" He was no Moriarty she was sure of that, and every move he made towards her made her cringe with embarrassment. He held up a glass for her, which she took, and casually avoided drinking.

She sat her untouched glass down and put the heavy suitcase on the floor next to her feet. "I think we should. It's been a rather good day" she said and stroked the mattress beside her. Without hesitance he was on her, pinning her down to the bed with surprising strength. His speed had thrown her for a moment but she managed to regain a little control pulling her hands free from his clasp. He attacked her neck with ferocity and she used a free hand to touch him where he seemed to enjoy. His passion diverted his attentions so she was free to reach for the champagne bottle he had left of the bedside table. She strained a little under his weight but before he could react she had brought the heavy glass down onto the back of his head. He slumped over and she huffed and groaned as she extracted herself from his dead weight. She looked at him with mild disgust as she set to work. She headed out to her rucksack and grabbed a pair of yellow cleaning gloves, then pulled out four men's ties. She checked each one for any fibers or hairs then headed back to her Romeo.


By the time he awoke he was naked and sitting up straight, tied to the headboard his mouth stuffed with fabric and a growing sense of dread. "I was having doubts about this," she said finally when he managed to look at her. "I didn't really want to kill you or even double cross you, but when I found these in your suit jacket..." She threw a bag of white pills at him so they landed between his legs. His eyes shut and his brow began to prickle with sweat. "What did you have in mind? Hmm? A little overnight tryst with an unconscious woman? Oh how romantic Mr. Amalik! And then let me guess, you'd take the money and tell Moriarty where I was?" Amalik said nothing but his wide eyes told her she was pretty close to the mark, so she shut the bedroom door and got to work.

An hour or so later she was making one final sweep around the room with a cloth. The place stank of bleach but that made her feel oddly calm, a throwback to the old days when she was the one in control. She couldn't see anything out of place, other than a dead body so she shoved the dirty cloths into a plastic bag and grabbed her rucksack. She didn't remove her gloves until she had hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door and heard the lock click. That should buy her a little time. Heading back to the maid's closet she found her coat and wig undisturbed and she spent a little time adjusting it, maneuvered her now heavier rucksack and dumped the dirty cloths into a bucket of dirty mop water and poured yet more bleach over the contents. No mistakes, not this time. She felt as though she were in autopilot, not truly believing that she was this close to being free. Not to mention the thought of Jim being...dead. She shook her head and headed back into the hallway, marching straight to the staircase, careful not to touch anything, eventually crossing the lobby without incident into the gathering darkness.


John sat in the gloom of 221B not knowing where to start. Every time he shut his eyes he could see Sherlock plummeting...No he couldn't think about it anymore! He was paralysed by shock and yet him mind was spinning out of control. How could this have happened? He couldn't even turn on the television without the risk of seeing Sherlock plastered all over the screen, declared a fraud, the papers vindicated. They had underestimated Moriarty, which seemed ridiculous now. Richard Brook? He slammed his fist down on the leather arm of his chair as a reflex, and then tried to steady his breath. He should have stayed with him yesterday. Of course the phone call had been a ruse! How could he be so thick? These thoughts had been swirling around John's head for hours in a torturous repetitive game. It was agony and yet he just couldn't bear to pull himself out of the chair. That was until the doorbell rang.

Short and sharp. His heart quickened at the thought. What if he was...? He pushed himself up, his stiff muscles hindering him a little, a slight hobble to his step. The bell didn't ring again and he was worried he might have missed the caller as he jumped the last few steps. He wrenched the door open, heart in his throat, but it sank when he was met not with Sherlock but a woman. Of course not. He stared at her for a moment until he recognised her at last. "You? What do you want?" he said quietly, surprised at the anger that had begun to boil in his stomach.

"May I come in?" She was nervous but she seemed more confident than the last time they met. He considered slamming the door on her for a rather long time, until he finally relented and stepped back, allowing her into the house. He turned away and headed back up the stairs and she followed slowly behind him, the silence pressing against him like a vacuum. What could she possibly have to say to him now? And how is she even here now? Is she spying for Moriarty? He sat down on his chair then quickly shot up as she went to sit in Sherlock's seat and found an old wooden seat for her instead. He ignored her gaze while she settled herself in the seat then finally folded his arms across his chest and shrugged at her. "I assume there was something you wanted to discuss with me?" She leant an elbow on the arm of her chair and rubbed her forehead. He could smell a hint of bleach from her clothes and she looked tired. Even more so than when she had been in that chair before.

"I wanted to tell you...how sorry I am about Sherlock." He shook his head as she felt his eyes sting a little, "Do not speak to me ABOUT SHERLOCK!" He shouted, then he huffed and felt the pressure in his chest release a little as. She looked frightened and her lips pursed, turning whiter than a sheet. "You've got a bloody nerve!" He said and he launched himself from his chair and began to pace around the living room. It felt good to vent at her, his chest felt looser by the second.

"You sat by and let that maniac plot against Sherlock and you did nothing! Don't you have a conscience?" Her head drooped a little. "I'm sorry, I never should have helped him. I never thought it would go this far!" He stopped in his tracks. "You helped him?" At least she had the good grace to look ashamed of herself but he felt sick. "Look I know I'm a terrible person, I know it better than most, but I was so afraid and I did what I needed to survive." He scoffed and paced around a little more trying to figure out what he was going to do. "You could come forward. Tell everyone the truth about Sherlock and Moriarty." She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. "That's not going to happen. It's not safe. " He looked at her with a confused expression, "Not safe? But Moriarty is dead, he shot himself."

She looked genuinely pained by his words as a flicker of grey crossed her pale features, "Yes I get it! He's dead, they both are!" Then she shook her head, "Fuck, I'm sorry. This is such a nightmare..." Tears spilled onto her cheeks and he suddenly felt his anger dissipate a little towards her. She wiped her cheeks roughly and heaved a sighed, "I need to leave. I've got things I need to deal with and I don't plan on ever being pulled back into his world again...but I wanted to see you before I left." John shrugged as he watched her stand and pulled a black rucksack back onto her shoulders and she walked over to him and stared at him intently. "If you ever need anything, any help or anything, please let me know."

She squeezed his arms and before he could move a muscle she was already halfway down the stairs. He grabbed for his mobile and flicked through his contacts until he reached Lestrade, Greg and his finger hovered over the call button. He then scrolled to look at Holmes, Mycroft but faltered for too long. He tossed his phone into the chair and finally felt overwhelmed by exhaustion, trudging upstairs hoping he might just be able to get some peace and quiet for a few hours.


So is this it? Does Lily disappear into the darkness or does Jim get his own back? Please let me know you're thoughts as it would help LOADS! xxxx