When Sherlock had realised that the red dot was the sight of what he presumed to be a sniper rifle (judging by the fact that the bullet had come through the window) he knew he had to do something. John was fine, he wasn't stood in front of the window, but Elizabeth appeared to be the target. He couldn't let their only willing source of information from Moriarty's network die. Or was it something else? No, he was protecting their source, he convinced himself, for the purposes of information only.

Elizabeth's breathing was shaky but she looked up at Sherlock with a grateful look. She wasn't expecting him to become her bodyguard at all but she was relieved that he had at that moment.

Although the same couldn't be said for Shaun.

"Christ!" John hurried over to Shaun who was lying on the ground near them.

Sherlock looked to the side to see Shaun writhing in pain. Sherlock may have saved Elizabeth but in doing so, he had let Shaun take most of the bullet. Sherlock hissed as he moved his arm off of Elizabeth to discover that the bullet had just caught his arm, and went straight through, embedding itself in Shaun's chest instead.

"Oh my God, Shaun!"

Elizabeth scrambled out from underneath Sherlock to be by the side of her friend. John was busy placing pressure on the wound but Elizabeth looked around frantically. She didn't know what to do to help.

"The bullet hasn't gone through, it's blocking most of the blood. Find something to block the wound with." John instructed.

"Liz - "

John shook his head at Shaun, "Don't talk."

Before she could leave her friend's side though, Shaun grabbed her arm, "You carry on,"

"Shaun, don't. You'll be alright."

"You'll get - more, as well - as yourself, killed."

And then his grip on her arm became limp. The shine of life in his hazel eyes faded and he lay there unmoving. John checked his pulse but slowly drew his hands away from Shaun's neck and wound. Elizabeth looked at Shaun, his bright yellow suit now stained with dark crimson blood.

"Shaun?" She shook him slightly, "Shaun."

She choked back a sob, shaking her head in disbelief. Only moments ago Shaun was alive and talking and now he was - dead. The tears silently streamed down her cheeks as she looked up to John and then to Sherlock.

Silence fell across the three of them for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth." John spoke up solemnly.

There was a pause.

"No, no, you're not." She gulped.

John frowned. Sherlock still said nothing.

"As long as it's nobody you care about, right?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but Elizabeth beat him to it.

"Taking down Jim's network is gonna cost lives but as long as they're not the lives you care about." She took a shaky breath as she looked back to Sherlock, "You only saved me because I - I had the more important information, right? I have the contacts. I have the 'expendables'. The people I know might not be on the right side of the law but they are still people with families and lives and worth more than stupid government systems could ever see. Shaun has a brother who is never going to understand why his brother died because Shaun committed the crimes he did to keep his brother out of this life."

Neither of the two men spoke.

"And I'm expendable to both sides. Maybe not now for you, but I will be. "

Something in Sherlock broke, there and then, hearing Elizabeth talk like that. It hurt because it wasn't true - it might have been true at some point in the very beginning but not now - yet she believed that. He was kidding himself if he saved her for the purposes of only gaining more information but it took what she said to make him realise. Her words were a wake up call. He had promised not to let Moriarty hurt her yet in doing so, it cost him her trust. Why didn't he push them both to the ground?

John was ashamed when she had put it like that because a part of him heard the truth in it. It was unfair. They were trying to do the best for the public but in doing so, they were risking lives.

Taking down Moriarty and his network would be like war: both sides would win and lose.

* * * * *

Sebastian sighed as he watched the scene from his sight. He didn't need his mask much, only to watch where they went in the party and then the rest was history. Sherlock and John believed that Elizabeth was being targeted by Jim now. Perfect. In fact, too perfect - now she even believed that herself.

Sebastian shrugged off the matter. Jim would probably sort it with whatever else he was planning for her.

He arrived back at their 'safehouse' - for the time being, it was a little boat on the Thames - to see Jim sat back in the little sofa seat by the window.

"Well?"

"He's dead. What about you?"

"They agreed to help me. Lizzie will be back on our side in no time at all." Jim spoke in a nonchalant tone.

What was there to be worried about? Order would be restored in his network soon enough. It wasn't the first time that Jim needed Seb to exterminate all the snitches. It wasn't a 'snitches get stitches' case with him, more of a 'the mole ends up dead in his hole' situation.

All of this chaos to get his personal thief back. All he could think was that she better be thankful.

"She is losing trust in them."

"That's what I like to hear."

"But also in you. I hope whatever you're planning will earn her trust back."

"It will."

Sebastian didn't always agree with what Jim did but he didn't ever voice it. At this moment in time, he just wished that Jim would let go of the past, realise that Elizabeth wasn't worth the time or the money and just kill her. She didn't have the stomach to stay on their side.

Nevertheless, he would stay faithful to his friend. Perhaps soon Jim would see it.

* * * * *

The three of them were back at the flat.

John and Sherlock had debriefed Mycroft on what had happened.

Elizabeth didn't speak to anyone.

She just stood in the corner, silent, eyes searching the floor for some kind of sign that what she was doing was wrong. Or right. But either way, it didn't feel right. Her choices just cost her a dear friend. Nothing would seem right for a while.

When Mycroft left, Elizabeth made a move to head to Sherlock's room. Sherlock thought it best to talk though:

"Elizabeth, I think we should - "

"Fuck off." Came her curt interruption.

Sherlock snapped his mouth shut again.

John spoke softly to Sherlock, "Give her a bit of time. She has just lost a friend."

The detective gave a little nod as his friend left to go upstairs to his own flat, his apologetic gaze watching Elizabeth slam the bedroom door shut. Sherlock knew she had every right to be angry but he oddly didn't like seeing her like this. He knew he should feel indifferent but the truth was that he felt more than indifference. It was easy to apologise for walking in on her when she was getting changed but to apologise for something like this - it was difficult. Especially now that she seemed adamant that they were just using her until she was no longer useful.

* * * * *

Elizabeth was lying on Sherlock's bed, her eyes having a staring competition with the ceiling. She was lost for words, not that she would have many more for the detective and the doctor. What was she doing here? A shine came across her eyes and she blinked hard. Shaun's words kept playing themselves back over in her head.

She was a fickle-minded, good-for-nothing, troublesome, treacherous thief. Somebody would have saved her if she had chosen prison over helping them. If she continued, she would get more killed.

That said, could she live with herself if she knew she could help them take down Jim before he harmed more innocents and never helped?

It was unfair. That was the best way to describe the situation. She was a pawn in a game that she never really had the heart to play. The stealing, the acting, the seducing, the lying - it was all fun and games so long as the perspective never pushed through. As long as reality never hit her, she could handle it. But now? Now she could feel herself splitting at the seams, each part of her falling with with a different person, like some sick version of tug of war.

And she was struggling to take it.