Millie's POV
-------------
"And you think that this was a murder?"
"Oh, definitely," says Sherlock, walking around the body on the floor in a slow circle.
"I agree," I say, "It's the position of the water that gives it away."
"Come again?" says John, looking blank.
"Icicle. The perfect weapon. Sharp enough to inflict a fatal wound and melts minutes later. Virtually no evidence left behind," I explain, as Sherlock bends down to examine the woman.
"Brilliant... " breathes John.
I needed this. A case. Anything, to distract me from the unpleasant emotions that have been forcing their way into my mind.
"Call Lestrade," says Sherlock, looking up, "Say I've found him a suspect."
--------------
Two hours later, and we're sitting in a grubby cafe, eating lunch.
Well, John's having lunch. Sherlock's not eating. And I'm not hungry.
"So... Millie, you never told us what you got up to in Africa," says John, taking a sip of water.
"Very little. The case proved inconclusive. No leads. In fact, I think it was a ruse. To get me away from you two."
"Really? Why would anyone want that?"
"I don't know. To weaken you? To act as leverage? So soon after the break in at Baker Street... it all seems to coincidental."
John thinks this over, then nods slowly.
Silence.
"Sherlock, are you sure you can trust Emily?" I say carefully.
"Absolutely."
"Millie has a point Sherlock. We really don't know that much about-"
"I know enough. Enough to know she poses no threat."
"But she works with Moriarty," I say, trying to get him to see sense, "And, we both know that he'll use her if he can, to get to you."
"She doesn't work for him. He contacts her, but she isn't involved in any occupational work with or for him. She can be trusted."
"How do you know?" I retort, trying to keep calm.
He sighs, looking agitated, and leans over his hands-
"I know her pressure point. The fact that she has one indicates sentiment. And sentiment, although a weakness, indicates empathy. And we need her. Her skills are useful."
I raise an eyebrow.
"I think you're underestimating her capabilities, Sherlock."
"And I think you're underestimating mine."
We glare at eachother.
"Er.. I'm done here..shall we get going?" says John, hastily
I stand up, and follow John to the counter.
"John, am I being particularly oblivious? Do you trust Emily?"
He looks at me carefully.
"No, I don't, not fully. But I trust Sherlock. And I think you should too."
"But-"
"Don't be jealous, Sherlock sees her as an ally. Nothing more."
I stare at him dumbfounded.
"I'm not jealous?!"
He doesn't say anything.
"John. I'm not jealous, really. I'm just irritated. I'm a cynical person, and I thought Sherlock was too- and that's why I'm so surprised that he's trusting a criminal so easily. Especially a criminal who is in contact with Moriarty."
"Yeah, yeah, I understand. Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just think we should let it play out, ok? He knows what he's doing- well, most of the time."
I let it go at that.
-------------------
Emily's POV
I'm walking through the park, thinking.
It's nearly dusk, so there's no-one around. I'm anxious, actually. I'm starting to regret ever going to meet Sherlock Holmes. I'm not a particularly suspicious person, but I'm worried that he might be working for an authority, and I've fallen into a trap- that he's recording my actions, and will turn me in when he catches me out. Of course, I didn't help things by hacking into Mycroft's security database.
I'm so lost in thought, I don't notice the dip in the ground. My foot catches, and I trip over, and land on my hands on knees, cursing under my breath.
"That wasn't very elegant," I hear a voice say. The voice offers me a hand and I take it, hauling myself up and brushing the mud off my jeans.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it. I'm always one for favours."
I turn around.
Of course it's him. I mentally kick myself for being so unobservant.
"Didn't expect to see you here. Isn't a park a bit below your normal social standards?" I say lightly.
"Ouch. Don't be mean. I just helped you up," he says, grinning.
I suppress a shudder. He's not repulsive or anything- it's just that smile. It's so dangerous.
"Somehow I don't think this is a coincidence," I reply.
"You're right. I don't believe in coincidences," Moriarty says softly, dropping his smile.
"Good to hear. What do you want?"
He tilts his head to one side, and says-
"I'm offering you a placement. I was very impressed by your test results. And believe me when I say I'm not easily impressed."
"What sort of placement?" I say, suspicious.
"Nothing too exciting. Just some information retrieval. Think you can manage that?" he says, his accent peaking and dipping.
"I'm sure I could."
He laughs softly.
"Good. You should probably know that I don't like it when people decline my offers."
There it is again. That tone. How can he say such sinister things in such a light way?
"Well, it's a good thing that I'm accepting, isn't it? When will you need me?"
"What? You don't want to know what I'm asking you to do?"
"No. I'll find out eventually."
He looks at me.
"You're interesting, Emily Schott."
My stomach turns to ice.
"Ciao. I'll be in contact."
And he walks away, leaving every nerve in my body screaming at me to run away.
------------
YOU ARE READING
Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*
Fanfiction"That is not danger," said he. "It is inevitable destruction. You stand in the way not merely of an individual, but of a mighty organisation, the full extent of which you, with all your cleverness, have been unable to realise. You must stand clear...
