Shadows of the Past (BBC Sherlock) -1-

3. Tagging Along

I was half tempted to chuck Sherlock's phone out of my hand as though it was a ball of fire.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the name that stared me in the face. My heart ran a marathon in my chest. That name was one I never wanted to see or hear ever again.

It was too late now.

And did Sherlock know of my past? His comment involving the words your boyfriend made me wonder if he'd figured it out. Or I could just be overreacting and he used the words sarcastically. Yeah, let's go with that.

"John, get dressed, we're going," Sherlock said suddenly, snapping me out of my dazed stupor.

With a nod of acknowledgement, John sauntered off. Sherlock removed himself from the kitchen, plucking his phone from my hands. I flinched, slipping into the den area.

It looked like your typical apartment den room. It had the necessities: a few chairs, a loveseat, a fireplace. Things were scattered everywhere, papers mostly, and books. Two laptops were lying around. I quickly looked away when I saw a skull perched on the mantle of the fireplace. I also ducked around the hanging dummy.

Yellow spray-paint on the wall to my right caught my attention. Floating above the loveseat was a yellow smiley face. My brows furrowed. I walked towards the childish art, looking closer. My eyes bugged as I noticed there were bullet holes in the wall.

"Do I want to know what happened here?" I flicked a thumb towards the bullet-worn wall.

"I was bored," Sherlock said simply.

"You painted a smiley on the wall and shot at it because you were...bored?" I knew the news constantly went on about Sherlock's unnatural ability to figure things out. That certainly wasn't the only thing unnatural about him.

I mean, shooting a wall out of boredom? Who did that?

My mind quickly changed from bullet-ridden smileys to that name. Jim Moriarty. I didn't know whether to fear the name or be angry with it.

"You arriving here wouldn't happen to have anything to do with Moriarty, would it?" Sherlock questioned me.

"Why would you think that?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"No," I said shortly.

"Either you're lying or you're annoyed."

"I'll give you two guesses." I tapped my foot on the floor. "I haven't seen or heard from him since that time."

"How can I believe you?"

"Don't you remember what happened that night?"

"It doesn't necessarily mean that you weren't on his side. You could have been putting on an act, like you could be now."

I rolled my eyes. "There is such a thing as being wrong, you know." I hated the smugness in his voice as he accused me of being currently involved with Jim Moriarty.

"How's your shoulder?"

I winced. "Like you actually care."

"Stop instigating her, Sherlock," John warned him as he came out dressed and ready to go. I smiled at him, thankful he was defending me. "You don't want to get on her bad side."

Sherlock sniffed. "As if she could do anything to me."

"You forget I'm decent with a gun," I chimed.