Exposed: A Sherlock FanFiction

Chapter 2

Oh, lookie, whats this, a new chapter of Sherlocky fanfiction goodness? ;)

vote and comment chicken wings.

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Clara Snowara sat in her office, gazing out of the ceiling-high window overlooking the Thames. She tapped her fingers against the leather chair she was sitting on, her ruby family ring hitting the metal arm of the chair. She sighed, and continued tapping out a tune. Now, the thing about Clara Snowara is that she was rarely ever entertained for longer than an hour. It was simply due to the fact that her brain processes things much faster, and so she thinks about an hour into the future. It was one of her pitfalls, but it made running a successful company that much easier. Sure, she knew the algorithms for tracking stock trends like the back of her hand, but it was always about thinking ahead and being in front of everyone else. It was what made a company successful. And, boy was success boring. Clara wished that someone would come in with an offer she couldn’t refuse, or that she could think of some other kind of plan that was as absorbing as it was entertaining. Almost as if her wishes were granted by a higher power—not that she believed in any of that, being a strict atheist, maybe it was the prospect of an almighty being creating everything that seemed so foreign to her—one of her personal assistants, Miranda, walked in to the office. It was because Clara liked Miranda that she could walk in whenever she pleased, otherwise everyone had to knock and wait for however long Clara wished before she would let them in.

“I brought you all the newspapers the city has, as you wished.” Miranda said, dumping a stack of newspapers on Clara’s pristine desk. Clara waved a hand in dismissal; she had forgotten that she had asked that of Miranda. Clara liked to be up to date with the happenings of the world, simply for her amusement. She usually knew what was going to happen before it did anyway.

“Are you absolutely certain that you have acquired a copy of each of them? Even the Korean ones?” Clara asked, wheeling herself back to her desk. What can I say; she was a lazy human being.

“Even those, I have triple checked that a copy of every single possible newspaper is in that stack.” Miranda said, pointing to the stack that was teetering on Clara’s desk. It was fairly high, and thick, but knowing Clara, she would have read through them all in the next 30-45 minutes depending on how much time she wanted to waste.

“Thank you Miranda.” Clara said, picking up the first paper of the top of the pile. She needn’t have said that Miranda was dismissed; Miranda knew from her many years with Clara that once she picked something up of interest, it was best that she’d be left alone. Clara spent the next fifteen minutes reading the newspapers from the top of her stack. She had read through the Chinese, Korean, Greek and Indian ones, and was just finishing the last of the Spanish. Clara sighed in to her palm as she read. The world was certainly a boring place; all the newspapers were ever filled with was war, politics and crime. In Clara’s opinion, politics were the work of the idiots of the world and saw nothing that could possibly be good about it. She understood perfectly well that her success was due to political and social ideology, however let’s not forget that Clara thought success was boring, just like she found an astounding amount of things. Crime was petty and ludicrous but she supposed, without crime, there would be nothing fun. As for war, that was something she was stricttly against and she had  promised herself to make it her personal mission to stop all forms of war happening. Clara had a flair for making impossible things happen.

Once she had finished the newspaper she had currently been reading, she plucked another from the pile, whilst tossing the read paper on the floor. Clara skimmed the front page of the paper as she usually did, not expecting anything to stand out or appeal to her curiosity. Clara smiled to herself as a title caught her eye.

“Well, it looks like I have found something to do.” She said to herself before once again summoning her assistant, Miranda.

“Please get me James Moriarty on the phone.”