Katie Holmes: Alive [Book Three {final}] ( A BBC Sherlock Fanfic) (On Hold)

Chapter 5 His Voice...

Katie's P.O.V

I stepped out onto the street and hailed a taxi. Who is it? I wondered. The cab pulled up beside the curb, I climbed in and gave the driver my address. Was it Clayton? It might be, his motive could be revenge, but then again maybe not he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the box. Perhaps it was a close ally of James' hoping to take up where he left off. Or maybe it's someone trying to test my intelligence. That's a likely possibility but if so, why choose such a manner to test it? Why not think of something more complex. By the time I scanned through the list of possible reasons and suspects, the cab had already pulled up at my house, waiting patiently. I threw the driver the amount due and went inside. Tom greeted me with a smile.

"hey babe".

"hey" I reached up and kissed him quickly. "new client?" I asked looking towards my study, where a shadowed silhouette sat opposite my desk.

He nodded and sighed. "your so busy lately"

"I know, I know" I said softly and hugged him. "just this last case and we'll take some time off, ya?"

"and your client?" he asked with a raised brow.

"something to keep my mind occupied for now, I've got a case and the suspect is desperate for my attention, I'm running through the lists of possible people of intrest but have come up with zilch so far, I need something else to concentrate on, and if we're lucky and it's anything less then a seven I'll solve this quite quickly"
Tom looked at my seriously for a moment and nodded. "don't get too tied up ok? I know it's hard not having your dad around and all. Just don't do what he does, if he's anything like you've described to me...look just don't close yourself off, alright?. There's a a reason I'm standing here so if your getting too stressed out or upset, you know where I am"

"Tom I'm fine!, really I am, it's just a case nothing I can't handle" I said forcing a smile. He doesn't need this, I don't need to burden him. He loves you. My conscience reminded me. He doesn't need to worry about me!

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me"

I rolled my eyes. "yes Tom I get it, you'll be the pain in my ass when I need it, now shoo, I don't need you clucking around me like a mother hen while I'm at work"

"I'm not a hen" he huffed. "I'm a rooster!"

"Isn't rooster another word for còck or should I call you a dìck another form of còck"

"Hardy, har, har, very funny don't put words in my mouth" he glared at me.

I smirked and shrugged. "I didn't you suggested it"

"ya well!...whatever you love my rooster anyway" he pouted.

"yes I do however this hens on her rounds, so I'm sure your rooster has a way of entertaining itself"

"What do you mean on your rounds?, wait a minute, ewww I don't need to know that!" he whined and ran into the kitchen. "my precious ears!"

"have been tainted by my sinful lips" I smirked and shook my head he was such a child sometimes. "I'll see you in a bit babe" I called and went to my study. Tom and I both agreed that since I worked as a private detective, it was only fair I had a place to work seeming as he got the open space gym for one on one private classes with his martial arts students. We came up with the idea of a simple study, no bigger than our bedroom. Elegantly furnished with plants and copies of art work. To be honest, I didn't really care much about the cream carpet, biscuit coloured walls, or most of the furnishings, they were mainly there for the clients to create a comfortable atmosfear. The only things I cared about, were the odd couple relics from a particularly good case, before I found a new place to put them., And my leather swirly chair, complete with leg rest, everything a book worm needs or in my other case everything I needed to look in control of the situation. I stepped in and immediately took note of the bulge in the young woman's hand bag, before cautiously looking at her face as she looked at me. Worry lines creased her smooth forehead, the lines were unwanted on her youthful skin, she was too young to have such a heartbroken look in her eyes. I felt a small sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, it was the look of someone who had lost a loved one. It was one I knew all to well. I saw it in the saddened eyes of those at my funeral, hidden by the ferns as I watched my loved ones stare at my grave and the hypocrites dabbed at their eyes looking for a bit of gossip so they could have there five minutes of fame on TV. Luckily any rumors were stamped out by Mycrofts iron rule over the British government, in his own manipulative way. It was not a look I wished to see again, but this woman was a client and I had no connection to her whatsoever, so I braced a smile and shook her hand. I sat down in my chair, kicking up the leg rest, and resting my arms behind my head.

"Now I assume two options" I started. "either A your here to kill me as proof of the revolver in your hand bag or B it's for protection because your scared. I'll go for the latter, judging by the confused look on your face, I didn't catch you out. So what's your tale of woe?"

The women stared at me trying to take in what I just said. "I, um..."

I sighed. "ignore what I just said and tell me what's going on, I hope you don't mind the informality this is quite a comfy way of sitting and it helps me think, so shall we begin?"

The woman excepted my excuse, and began with something all cases did, a back story, before coming to the main details. By the time she'd finished I'd already figured it out.

"your husband sold your wedding ring to pay a gambling debt, if he's missing he's most likely..." I paused. "they most likely have him locked away somewhere" buried, I heard sherlock mutter in my mind. I pushed the thought aside. "the men after you are most likely trying to get a ransome" trying to kill you, he once again corrected. I frowned at his voice. She'll find out anyway why not sooner rather then later. Get out of my head Sherlock, I growled in my mind, then grimaced great now I'm hearing him in my thoughts. "I think it's best you go to Scotland Yard they have enough resources to help you" I said aware the woman was still in the room. I led her to the door with a handshake for good luck. You know she's going to die right?. I closed my eyes and banished his voice from my mind, I'd been hearing it alot lately and I don't know why. Talk to him, my conscience whispered. I do talk to him, I bit back. In person. He's busy, I snapped my shame surfacing. Coward...I contemplated on the thought of a face to face meeting. Does he even want to see me? We hadn't really mentioned much about my 'death' in our letters I assumed it was forbidden territory I was also afraid to bring it up, what if he held it agaisnt me or had not forgiven me. The only comfort I had on that thought was the fact that at some point he did the same. But was I really ready to return to England after everything that happened? It's home. The voice soothed. Would I even be accepted back? My conscience fell silent after that. Maybe I'll write a letter to Sherlock and see how everyone is doing its been a couple of months. I desperately wanted to tell him I missed him, but I pushed the sentiment aside. So long as knows I'm still breathing it's good enough.

I do apologise for the long wait I had things in my life to sort out and I'm in sixth year now so I've alot of study but thank you soooooooooooooooooooo much for being patient with me! :)