Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Nineteen: A Scandal in Belgravia

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A SCANDAL IN BELGRAVIA

The tension was unbearable; one wrong move and they all went up in smoke. They all stared at each other-John looking to Sherlock, Sherlock at Jim, Jim to Amelia, and Amelia's gaze flitting between Sherlock and the criminal. Amelia twitched as Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees began to play, echoing in the space.

Jim closed his eyes, and sighed. "D'you mind if I get that?"

"No, no, please." Sherlock insisted. "You've got the rest of your life."

"Hello?" Moriarty said, answering the phone. There was a long pause. "Yes, of course it is, what do you want?" He turned to Sherlock and mouthed, "Sorry."

"Oh, it's fine." Sherlock mouthed back.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" Jim screamed, spinning back around with a look of fury. He blew out a breath, and then, quieter, "Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you, and I will skin you." He started to leave, only to turn back around and walk towards Sherlock, Amelia, and John. "Wait. Sorry, wrong day to die."

"Oh, did you get a better offer?" Amelia said, eyebrow raised.

Jim ignored her. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." He held the phone to his ear once more. "So, if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." Then, just before he walked through the door, he snapped his fingers, all lasers focused on the trio disappearing.

"What happened there?" John asked, sounding relieved.

"Someone changed his mind." Amelia said bitterly. "The question is: who?"

♠

"What are you typing?" Amelia asked John a few weeks later, coming up behind him with a mug of tea in hand. She sipped her tea, and raised her eyebrow when he didn't respond. "John?"

"Hm? What? Oh, blog."

"About?" Amelia pressed as she took a seat in her chair, groaning when Two hopped up and sat in her lap. The bulldog was now fully grown, but he hadn't lost his habit of jumping up onto chairs in order to get more attention. She scratched behind his ear absentmindedly.

"Us."

"You mean me." Sherlock corrected without looking up from his newspaper, although Amelia could've sworn that he smiled at her. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, Amelia had noticed. John now knew about their little relationship, however unconventional it may be and ever since then, Sherlock had been far more open with his displays of affection.

Not that Amelia was complaining.

"Why?" asked John.

"Well, you're typing a lot." Sherlock said just as the doorbell rang. "Right then. So, what have we got?"

Over a period of many weeks, people came and left 221B, some wanting to consult with Sherlock, other with Amelia. They were inconsistent with their visiting hours, ranging from twelve in the evening to twelve at night. It got to the point where Amelia didn't bother changing out of her nightie, having given up on changing in the middle of the night and then again in the morning.

"My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office." A client started.

"Boring." Sherlock cut him off, frog-marching the man out the door and slamming it in his face. He rolled his eyes as Amelia shot him a glare, "He was being boring."

"You could've let him finish his story." Amelia said.

"Jesus Christ you two, if you're going to bicker nonstop over this, I swear to God, I'll leave here without a second glance." John threatened.