Find Me (BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

Chapter 8

Karachi

He held out his arms, thinking exclusively about how important it was that her tracks led only towards the side of the ship and not away from it. She rested an arm across his shoulder and stepped lightly into his embrace; he lifted her away from the railing and carried her towards the next nearest container. Her hands settled around his neck, and she exhaled a whisper against the side of his throat. 'Why?'

This was the most dangerous part of the plan, without doubt. He assessed her weight, calibrated his stride so his footsteps wouldn't betray he was carrying anything and ignored the question. There was a sense of obligation, of duty towards her that he hadn't been conscious of with any of the other adversaries he'd bested. He'd won the battle and she'd lost, but in a way that wasn't entirely logical, he knew the war wasn't over.

Her breath was on his neck, and then more than her breath, her lips, soft and warm and open, pressing a kiss onto a spot just below his right ear. A shiver ran through him, curling down his spine and making his stomach clench.

'Automatic sensory response,' he blurted out, knowing she'd have felt it.

Her smile curled against his skin. 'Erogenous zone.'

Kicking open the door of the container he dumped her on the bonnet of the anonymous black saloon parked inside but instead of letting go of his neck her hand came round to press against it. For a long moment as she stared at him he found his powers of observation failing, going dim around the edges.

'Pulse - elevated,' she said.

He regained control with an effort. 'I've just carried you halfway across the ship.'

'Eyes – dilated.'

'It's very dark in here.'

She let him go, and he was definitely sure that she'd let him go, rather than that he'd decided to move away himself. She slid in through the open passenger window while he moved round to the boot and removed the Russian disguise, bloodied boots, and the paper suit underneath, dumping the sweaty pile into a plastic bag. Only after he'd dressed in his familiar uniform of close fitting shirt and trousers did he realise she was watching him in the rear view mirror. He was somehow sure that the next bit of the plan might actually be the most dangerous part.

He drove out of the container and off the boat in silence and then lost the car in maze of Karachi back streets that he'd already marked as free from security cameras. It was only a short way to the train station and then she could be on her way and he'd clean and return the car before starting the tortuous journey back to London. He had only another twenty minutes or so in her company.

'There's a new passport in the glove box, credit cards, cash, some bank statements and utility bills, a reference from a previous landlord in case you need to rent anywhere. An open train ticket. You're free to go wherever you like but don't be so careless next time.'

'Careless?'

He shot her a sidelong glance, sensing an opportunity to regain the upper hand. 'Careless. I could have found you anywhere in the world.'

'Alright – where have I been?'

'I had you picked up in Kashmir, but you hadn't been there long. Before that, judging by the fact that your hair is much lighter approximately one inch from your head you'd been outside in the sun for a significant period of time, and the shape and shade of the faded henna design on the inside of your left wrist tells me you were in Goa. A holiday though, not for work. You didn't need to work because you'd just earned a large amount of money on your last job. The skin on your face is significantly darker than on the rest of your body, particularly near the hairline so you've been exposed to very strong UV rays with your hair back in a hat or a hood. There are slightly paler marks on your temples indicating the presence of sunglasses which leads me to conclude you were skiing although not recently, because although you have strong acceleration when you run, your stamina is lacking so you haven't been exercising as much these last few weeks. Correlating that with periods of snowfall several months ago I conclude you were in Europe and knowing you've been left with few resources I expect you've been making contact with any of your former clients who might still be friendly. Since these are likely to be people with money and influence I'd guess you were in Davos at the World Economic Forum for a meeting with your client who is likely to be one of the European Finance Ministers or a person of equal significance. Give me a minute and I'll work out which one he is.'

'Sherlock,' she said. 'Stop flirting.'

He shut his mouth with a snap, but then couldn't resist having the final word. 'My point is, I knew where to find you.'

'Only because I told you where I was,' she shot back. 'I've already said your disguises are dreadful. You rang the adult chat line in India and spoke to one of my girls. You said it was a wrong number and you'd put on a fake accent but I screened all the calls personally and I recognised you straightaway. So I allowed you to track me down to a beauty salon I'd never used and let myself get captured. '

He pulled into the train station car park, stopped the engine and faced her with a frown. 'Why?'

'Two reasons. Firstly, because I was tired of running and I thought you might have come up with a reasonable plan to fake my death again – although the jury's still out on that. And secondly because I wanted to see you.'

She reached out and ran one finger of one hand down his cheek and with that single gesture, everything else simply switched off. The bustle of a midday morning in Karachi hushed into silence and the scene on the other side of the car windows blurred into nothing. He could no longer smell the faint tang of her perfume. It was as if that one input of data, the touch of her hand, cancelled out any other external stimuli. It was a moment in which the axis of his world might have turned, his earth moved but as he stared into her eyes he couldn't think of a thing to say. He couldn't think. Seconds passed, a minute, maybe more. He lost track.

Then she nodded once to herself and patted his leg. 'You aren't ready. I understand. You won't be able to find me again. But if you need me, when you need me, let me know and I'll find you.' She slipped on the burkha he'd left in the footwell, stashed her new identity documents underneath and got out of the car, leaving him still sitting inside.

It was only several years afterwards, while considering a photograph of a fish, that he realised that letting her walk away might have been the most dangerous part of the plan.

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