Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 19- Protocol

Emily's POV

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I get the text the minute  Istep into my apartment.

Baker Street, now. SH

I send the reply whilst silmultaeously removing my jacket and stepping out of my boots:

You wish. Text Me. ES

I sit down on the sofa, and wait a few seconds for the inevitable answer.

No, not text. Video chat, five minutes. SH

I sigh and heave myself off the sofa and over to my computer table, where I sit down and log in. I set up video chat, and, precisely five minutes later, I get a call.

"What is it?" I say irritably, sitting back into the chair and rubbing my temple.

Sherlock is sitting in the foreground, his pale face illuminated by the blue light of the webcam. John is craning over his shoulder, and Millie is standing in the background, observing from a distance.

"Are you alone?"

I snort, and say-

"What do you think?"

"Are you alone?"

I raise and eyebrow, and lean out of the picture so that they have a full view of my very messy apartment. They seem satisfied, so I shift back into view.

"Yes or no. Did you assist Moriarty in the extraction of information on individuals of the Chinese government."

There's no point denying it.

"Yes."

Sherlock frowns, thinking, and John swears audibly in the background.

"Do you know his current location?"

"No. Do you want to tell me what this is all about?" I say, feeling exposed. What if Mycroft Holmes is listening in to my every word? This could be used as evidence against me.

Sherlock inhales deeply, then begins to talk.

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I sit back, after the video call ends, open-mouthed.

Moriarty is using the information I extracted to blackmail the Chinese government, which could, potentially, cause war... unless information on Sherlock is supplied.

Insanity. 

I close my eyes. Mycroft and therefore the rest of the British government is aware that I supplied the most dangerous criminal mastermind of our generation with essential and strictly confidential information. I'm going to have to change my name soon. Move location. 

However, my primary concern is that I might be held responsible for causing a war.

What do I do now?

I pick up my phone, deliberating, then text Moriarty-

China. Changes. Nightlock. ES

Whilst I wait for the reply, I go to the kitchen and fill up a glass with water. I sip it, thinking. What can I do to sort out this situation? 

Not much.

I could try to sell Moriarty out to Mycroft. He might be more lenient on my sentence. But that would be boring. Plus,if I did that, I don't think I'd be alive to appreciate my shorter prison sentence.

My phone vibrates.

I pick it up hesitantly. I really didn't want to contact Moriarty after the encounter at Rusbridge. Truth be told, I'm a bit embarrassed that I complied so easily. That, and I can honestly say I'm scared of him. He's unpredictably unstable, and I feel like communicating with him further is a definite suicide mission.

I open the text:

Ten minutes.  -JM

Ten minutes later, and my phone starts to ring.

 I answer it-

"Hello?"

"China, changes, nightlock...really?" says the twisted Irish accent on the other end of the line. The sound of his voice causes my muscles to involuntarily tense, because, although he's on the other end of the phone, it feels like he's next to me. Too close for comfort.

"Vera Knight. Dead. Why?"

"Protocol."

"Protocol?!"

"Well, firstly, she might have jumped to unwanted conclusions. And it's considered protocol to remove one or two people from the scene. Prevents competition. Keeps people on their toes," he says casually.

"So...you murdered her."

"I didn't murder her... no, no, no, I don't like getting my hands dirty. I arranged it." he says simply.

I close my eyes. He killed her. Protocol.

"Right. Well. Chinese government. Mycroft Holmes knows I supplied you with the information. There's going to be a war, if you don't stop now."

He laughs.

"No, there won't. Don't be silly, you and I both know he wouldn't let that happen. No, he'll give me what I want, and I'll leave China alone. Then we're both happy."

"You could have anything," I say quietly, more to myself than to him, "Money, ownership, and you want... the Holmes family history..."

"What can I say? I want to know the gossip," he says, and I know he's smiling. 

"I'm going to go to prison for this," I sigh, playing absentmindedly with the sleeve of my jacket.

"Honey, I'm a consulting criminal. I can get you a new life just like that. It's what I do."

I pause.

"What's the catch?"

"Hm? No catch. Just favours. You're really starting to owe me now, aren't you?"

"Is it ever going to stop? Your game with Sherlock."

Silence.

The temperature drops several degrees.

"Not until we solve it."

"Solve what?"

"The final problem."

He's stopped joking around now. His voice is dark and threatening, and I know I need to hang up, now.

"Ok, well, thanks for clarifying. I won't keep you."

"I'll see you around, Emily Schott," he says, an although he sounds innocent enough, I know what he really means.

I hang up, my pulse hammering against my wrist.

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