The Woman In Mask (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Putting The Pieces Together

None of the audiences at The Phantom of the Opera could describe her face.
She had set her angle perfectly while she was singing. Nobody could catch a glimpse. The audiences sitting at the very front were just able to give a few unimportant descriptions about her hair and her height. But her face was still a mystery.

Sherlock has been in his mind palace since he and John had came to their flat. John was reading a book while Sherlock was lying on the coach. He didn't attempt to talk to him. Because he knew Sherlock wouldn't answer. He was very angry. John had never seen his friend that much angry before. John was hundred percent sure that Sherlock Holmes was going to make her pay what she had done.
"Donna Shalott!"shouted Sherlock suddenly straightened up on the coach.
"Who?"John was startled because of his friend's sudden reaction.
"Donna Shalott! Don't you remember her?"Sherlock said excitedly. His eyes were sparkling.
"No..wait yes."John paused for a moment. "Are you talking about the thief that were killed in a boat?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Exactly."
John furrowed his eyebrows.
"What's her connection with the woman in mask?"he asked.
"Donna means Lady. Lady Shalott. The Lady of Shalott. The famous painting and the poem."sherlock explained quickly.
"So?"john was still confused.
Sherlock rushed to his computer, quickly typed the poem's name and let John read it.
"She falls in love with Lancelot. But there is a curse on her. She's not allowed to look at the world directly. But she looks at Lancelot. She knows she is going to her death while she leaves the tover. So she dies in a boat."
"They had found Donna in an old boat too."said John starting to put the pieces together.
"Donna wasn't the thief. It was the woman in mask. She had done this to cover herself. And she has done it again, recently."said Sherlock smiling.
"Elisa Day."said John excitedly.
"She could have gotten away with that however she wanted to be applauded. She made us to listen the song."sherlock explained.
"If only we could see her face."sighed John. Sherlock stood up and walked towards the window.
"We'll see. We'll see her again, very very soon indeed. She loves playing games. She loves being the winner."
"What do you think will be her next move?"John asked.
Sherlock didn't answer. Suddenly his phone rang.
"I'm on my way"said Sherlock hanging up the phone.
"What is it?"asked John.
"Veronica Millstone. She remembered something."Sherlock replied with a victorious smile on his face.
"Oh this is going to be so much fun!"said Sherlock and stormed out of the flat.

When she left the  warehouse, she knew she has just dealt with the devil. However, she had nothing to loose and nothing to fear.
But that man was different. He was strong, clever-almost a genious- and he was mad.
She took a deep breath and walked towards a familiar address. She didn't know why she was going there, but she had already reached there.
She thought about the conversation they had an hour ago.
He wanted her to play with Sherlock Holmes. She had already been playing with Sherlock Holmes. But her aim was different of course. She just wanted to play with him and deceive him because he was blocking her way. She wanted to give him a lesson.
But that man, Moriarty, wanted her to play specifically with him. He wanted him to loose. He wanted him to be defeated. He wanted her to hurt Sherlock Holmes. However, he wanted him alive. Killing him was not her business.
She had declined all of this initially. She had more important things to do. However, he gave her such a tempting reason, that she accepted the job without a hesitation. The reason was worth millions for her. She could have finished everything. She could have started a new life.
She was thinking the conversation from the beginning when she finally reached her destination.
The curtains were open so she could see inside the flat.
She saw him, shouting angrily in his flat. He was furious. His eyes were sparkling while his black curls were moving up and down every time he shouted. He stood still in front of the window, ruffled his hair. He was wearing a white shirt and a black suit.
Attractive, she thought. Very attractive indeed. How he looked attractive when he was angry. She watched him bit more. Suddenly he looked outside to see her. His sparkling grey eyes met her's. She felt chills. His gaze was different. She saw the geniousity in his eyes and...and something different. He paid no attention on her. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, he was playing his violin. She was surprised. Could he play violin?
She paid more attention on him. She could feel the notes, floating in the flat. She could see every single one of them. Beautiful, mesmerising, and sad. The song was filled with full of grief and sadnes. However it wasn't a familiar tune. It was different. Was he composing? She looked at him in amazement. He had just managed to impress her.
Composing, she thought. He was composing.
He looked different while he was playing. He looked peaceful and innoucent. He lost himself in the music. She was astonished.
She looked once more at the great dedective, then slipped into the corwd.