The Undefined Criminal - A Sherlock Fanfic

Boiling Point

       Who am I? When in my entire life do I ever imaging I would be in a situation like this? Can I wake up please? Can I just wake up back in my crappy old flat and go back to my normal life? Please?

       The car turned a corner and Buckingham Palace came into view. I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. The butterflies in my stomach could explode at any second. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to be doing anything like this, even riding in a limo was unheard of to me, a proper limo at that! "Okay guys, let's go over the plan one more time," Lestraude interrupted the dead silence. He met us in the car when it picked us up. He's going in undercover as well.

       "Right, yeah, okay," I struggled to say.

       "Amy, it's going to be fine. I promise," Sherlock reassured me from the seat next to me.

       "Yeah, and who knows? We may catch them before you even get involved," John added.

       "Right. Well, we'll all go in the Gala as guests. Sherlock and Amy, you will use your... talents, if you will, and try to pinpoint any of the Montgomerys, or something relating to their assassination plan. If and when you find anything, you will signal John or me, who will then alert the Royal Guard and will put the whole palace on lockdown. Then, with as little notice as possible, we will apprehend said Montgomery, find the rest of the family, and save everyone. Got it?" Lestraude explained.

       "And what if something goes wrong?" I asked.

       "You're a thief. Your entire job is based off of things going wrong. We will figure it out,"

       "Oh, great. That really boosts my self confidence,"

       We pull up to the Buckingham Palace Gates. A guardsman stops the car and looks in the window. He immediately recognizes who we are and lets us through. The gate swings open, my heart skips a beat. I turn to Sherlock. "I'm on the other side of the gate!" I couldn't help but squeal.

       He kept his eyes ahead, "Yeah, it's a weird feeling,"

       The limo slowed to a stop in front of the Palace entrance. A velvet, red carpet lines the entrance, lined with spear-shaped lamps, setting a warm, welcoming mood. Lestaude exited the car first, then John, followed by Sherlock. He stopped and helped me out of the car. I keep having to remind myself to breathe, Sherlock could tell. "Breath," He mumbled. "I'll be with you the whole time, remember?"

       "Yeah, yeah," I take a deep breath. "Let's just get this over with, shall we? The sooner I can get this bloody dress off, the sooner I can feel like myself again,"

       We walk down the carpet, linking arms, mainly so I don't fall on my face with these damn stilettos. The inside of the Palace is better than I ever expected. High ceilings with more detail than I've ever seen. Everything in this place seems to be worth more than everything I own doubled. All of the walls were a warm cream colour, lined with gold painted woodwork. Sherlock had to tug on my arm to get me to stop staring at everything. "Remember, you're posh. You're used to this type of thing,"

       "But it's just so-"

       "I know!" we continued throughout the Palace and into the Ballroom.

       If someone asked me if I ever thought I would ever stand on a marble floor, I would say 'hell no!', what ever happened to that old me?  Even the air seemed to be made of gold. The floor was a brownish, polished marble, with a checkered design in the middle indicating the dance floor. Large, columns built in the walls were painted gold and decorated with floral carvings. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the ceiling itself is filled with an intricate mural. It seems like the ceiling is a bloody skylight, its so realistic. Sherlock kept eyeing me to get me to stop acting like a five year old in disneyland. "Posh," he repeated.