Chapter Twenty Nine- Combat Practice

                                    

                                          
"Sherlock, can you help me?"
                          
"No".
                          
"But I'm going to die". 
                          
"Yes, probably". 
                          
I knew I was dreaming but I was never very skilled at waking myself up. This dream was a weird one. I couldn't even really explain what it was about without confusing myself. All I knew is that I wanted to wake up. Luckily, something else took care of that for me.
                          
The deafening sound of a gunshot right next to my face made me jump awake and scream. My head darted to my side and I saw a bullet hole in the wall, only centimetres away from me. 
                          
"Bad reflexes".
                          
I looked in front of me and sighed frustratedly at Jim carelessly reloading a gun and throwing it in the air playfully.
                          
"What the hell are you doing?!" I snapped, still surprised by the gunshot.
                          
"I'm testing you!" Jim said with excitement, running next to me and practically dragging me out of bed, "And you failed".
                          
"Wh-" 
                          
"You want to be ready for Aaron, don't you?" Jim grabbed my shoulders and stared at me intensely.
                          
"Um-"
                          
"Well, then you have to learn..." Jim paused, suddenly remembering to take a breath from the excitement, "Defence, attack, reflex, killing, shooting, stabbing, sawing, torture-"
                          
He paused, realising he was getting carried away again.
                          
"Maybe not those last three", he corrected himself, "But all the others are...essentials! Necessities!"
                          
"Have you just had coffee by any chance?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
                          
"Only three", he answered, his eyes wide, and he hesitated, "...and I get adrenaline after work stuff".
                          
"I know what 'work stuff' means", I laughed slightly.
                          
"Okay, I'll be more graphic", Jim looked at me challengingly, "Imagine this. I had rope, a chainsaw and acid-"
                          
"I don't even think I want to know what the end of that story is", I interrupted quickly.
                          
Jim dismissed whatever it was he was talking about and tossed me the gun which I managed to catch.
                          
"Come on", he grabbed my other hand and ran downstairs.
                          
When we reached the bottom floor, Jim looked around frantically.
                          
"Okay", Jim paused, "Shoot that window".
                          
I looked to where he was pointing which was the living room window. 
                          
"Are you mad?!" I asked.
                          
He gave me a look that said not to be too obvious.
                          
"Shoot that window", he repeated.
                          
"But that's your window", I stared at him.
                          
"I think I have enough money to repair it, don't you?" Jim said sarcastically, "Now, Claire Daniels, shoot that window".
                          
I sighed and looked down at the gun in my hand. Jim released the grip from my hand and I held the gun and aimed it at the window. After hesitating for a few seconds, I eventually pulled the trigger and then I was greeted by the loud sound of a gunshot and the smashing of the tiny shatters from the window. 
                          
"Good but..." Jim tilted his head, "...could do with some better aiming".
                          
"How?" I asked cluelessly, "I hit the window, didn't I? Isn't that all the aiming their is to it?"
                          
"With a window, maybe", Jim smiled, "But a person? Not at all. Look".
                          
Jim walked behind me and I felt his arms go around my body and clasp around my hands on the gun. He gently rested his head on my shoulder and his back pressed against mine. It took no genius to tell he was an expert at shooting because, in a matter of only two seconds, he quickly pointed at the ceiling and shot one of the light bulbs which then went onto smash on the floor.
                          
"Wow, okay", I stared at the glass on the floor, "That just happened".
                          
"See? It's easy", Jim shrugged, releasing his arms from me.
                          
"Yeah, for you ", I raised my eyebrows.
                          
"Well, I've had years of experience", he bragged, "But, if you learn from me I can guarantee you'll catch on sooner".
                          
"Look, I probably won't even have to shoot Aaron anyway", I pointed out.
                          
"You don't know that", Jim narrowed his eyes, "What if he just lashes out? What will you do then? Attack him with words? No, I need you to be able to defend yourself, okay?"
                          
"Okay", I nodded. 
                          
"I just want you to be safe", Jim sighed, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you ever got hurt when I could've stopped it".
                          
He grabbed the gun from me and threw it carelessly to the side. Taking my hands, he stared at me intensely. 
                          
"I think you need to talk to Sherlock", he informed me.
                          
"Why?"
                          
"He could teach you how to read people like he does", he continued.
                          
"Why would I need to know that?" I asked.
                          
"Everything is important", Jim stated, "In fact, that's your new goal. Learn everything".
                          
"It's impossible to learn everything", I scoffed.
                          
"Then how did I do it so easily?" Jim smirked at me.
                          
"You're so modest", I laughed sarcastically, "But how-"
                          
I was interrupted as I, again, heard the piercing sound of a gunshot. 
                          
"Seriously, stop it!" I moaned, "I get it, I have bad reflexes".
                          
Jim stared at me with confusion.
                          
"Claire, that wasn't me".
                          
I stared back at him, then at his empty hand and finally at the gun on the floor. Jim's eyes diverted from my face to something behind me.
                          
"Stay there", Jim moved away from me.
                          
"What?" I asked him.
                          
"Don't move", he hissed.
                          
I did as I was told. All I knew is that someone was here. Someone who was trying to kill one of us.