When a vacancy opens for a decent flat in central London, and for such a good price, who are you to decline it?
While expecting a peaceful living arrangement to develop paintings for the gallery you work for, instead you're dragged into unexpected...
The museum had freshly polished floors. Free of grime until Sherlock and John stepped foot from the pouring rain. Door unlocked as promised, a file containing exactly what was needed revealed itself from inside Sherlocks coat.
"Something feels off," the taller of the two perks his head around.
"Yes, well I don't think meeting up with an internationally infamous criminal would give the best feeling," John hisses to his best friend.
"I'm touched!" That voice rung from the foot of a grand staircase. "Nice choice, not sure why you'd choose it..." Jim emerges from the darkness into the moon's spotlight, Sebastian by his side.
John reached for his holster at the sight of Seb's rifle slung around his shoulder. That was odd, though, "choose it? I received your message," Sherlock held his phone up in confusion.
"And I got... yours?" Jim looks from side to side. "So you didn't send one of your homeless network to my home?"
"I don't even know where you live," the four men start to approach each other in complete loss.
"So who-" rustling from the roof high wall beside them stops all talk. A giant cloth falls once more, revealing the same blue 'M' symbol along with a large painting of a bird: a Magpie.
"You know, I did have high hopes for you, Holmes." Sherlock couldn't believe his ears, neither could John. Upon the railing opposite the painting, second floor, was a shadow. "Thought you nearly pieced it all together but it seemed you're still so caught up in... your little obsession with Jimmy,"
"Call me that again and I'll cut your throat," Moriarty takes out a knife.
"Aw, that's adorable," the figure took hold of the large curtain draping from the roof. Instantly descending to Moriarty's former spotlight, everyone soon seeing who it was.
"Y/n?" Only John could form words, Moriarty and Sebastian not caring enough. But Sherlock? Sherlock was lost.
"Hey, John," you change back to your innocent tone, "sorry... is this a bad time? I just wanted to pop in and say hi again," soon you laugh, "oh, I'm very sorry about all that foreplay before, I just couldn't help myself!"
Your attire now contrasted greatly with what you usually wore. Navy waistcoat and tie over a white button up, no blazer to cover the small, thin gold chains from pocket to pocket. Shoes polished more than the floor, tied in perfect balance unlike when you would trip over your laces.
Sherlock caught you every time. And now, you had caught him... off guard.
"What are you-?"
"Doing here? I never left London, silly," you couldn't believe you had to point out the obvious. "Though, thanks for the file, I've been needing that,"
"I'm not giving you the-" out his hands, the file was snatched, someone walking right by now in possession of it. "Hey!" Sherlock's tried to lunge at the person but was stopped by Moriarty's agape reaction.
Moriarty stammers a little, "Anna?"
"Hi!" They turn around with a smile, giving you the file. "We're still on for dinner tomorrow right?"
"Mixing business and pleasure was always your weakness," you mutter to them, flipping through the papers. "Hm, well that should be all," looking up finally, you groan at their irritating looks. "You imbeciles, I can't believe you haven't figured it out,"
"Figured out what??"
"Why I did all this!" Nearly collapsing from pure pain of their stupidity, you were left to explain, "I mainly need to know my playing field and- well I had too much fun filling that vacancy at 221B! And with the whole fight, I thought that was enough writing material for Anna's little stories and it was time for me to leave... before you figured it out,"
"I do like writing," Anna takes out a small chocolate bar to nibble at, winking at the readers.
"I needed a bit of insight on Sherlock from Moriarty so I sent in Anna, but they mistook the 'get close to him' with 'fall in love with him', but hey, I got what I needed," pride radiated off you like a beam of light.
"Which was what?"
"A new little plaything," you taunt, only then pouting mockingly at Sherlock's glare, "oh, you were utterly adorable, I must admit, but I hope it didn't break your little heart too much,"
His blood had reached boiling temperature, betrayal and hate lacing every memory with you. Or who he thought was you.
"We need to go, Boss," Anna stuffs the empty wrapper into their pocket.
"Say your goodbyes, and please don't make it unbearable," you dismiss, letting them go to Moriarty.
"I'll see you tomorrow," they kiss his cheek quickly.
"Enough," you turn the safety off a small gun from your holster, gesturing for Anna to call around the car. "See you boys very soon," raising the weapon, it set off to hit the fire alarm.
Just as they all turn from the new bullet hole and the now pouring sprinklers, your spot was empty. Left was a small sleek black card with your symbol on it. What once was on the wall, now left was apparent water-soluble paint dripping down the walls and into the drains.
"So, what was that about falling in love with a goldfish?" Sherlock cranes his neck to a fuming Moriarty, Sebastian using his jacket to save the Westwood.
"Sebastian, cancel dinner plans tomorrow,"
"Mhm," Moran rolls his eyes, pretending to do it, knowing Jim would regret it.
"We have a new player in the field," Jim straightens out his tie, "I'll be in touch,"
The crime solving duo were left drenched, Sherlocks head tilted back to let every drop his his burning face. What he thought was water from above turned to be little to few tears escaping unnoticed.
"Let's get back, let Lestrade know," John urges his friend, comforting best he could. "Come on,"
~~~
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