Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

The Wheel Turns

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: THE WHEEL TURNS

Amelia sighed, running a hand through her hair, then massaging the back of her neck. “Well,” She said, “here goes nothing.” She snatched a pillow off the bed and repeatedly hit Irene in the face with it, “Get up, we don’t have all day!” Irene moaned, her eyes fluttering open. Amelia pointed down the corridor to the bathroom, “Go shower. You stink. Then we can talk. Everything you need is in there.”

Irene sputtered, grumbling insults as she reluctantly got up, moving to the bathroom.

Amelia looked down at the pillow she still held in her head, lightly hitting Sherlock over the head with it. She let out a giggle as he glared at her, “What?” She said, feigning innocence. Her eyes suddenly widened in realization, running out of the room as she said, “The ice cream’s still on the table!”

“What?” John said, not understanding.

“You can’t leave ice cream on the table, you idiot!” Amelia said, taking the pralines and cream flavoured dessert and grabbing spoon, “It’ll melt.” She opened the container, and scooped up a bite-sized piece. She bit into it, moaning in pleasure. “Dear God, that is amazing.”

~~~

“So,” Sherlock said after Irene had showered, “who’s after you?”

“People who want to kill me.” Irene answered, looking around the living room of the flat. Amelia was curled up on her seat, still eating her ice cream while the boys sat at the table, looking at her.

“Who’s that?” Amelia asked.

“Killers.” Irene said simply.

“It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific.” She muttered in reply, rolling her eyes slightly and continuing to her frozen dairy product.

“So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them.” Sherlock realized.

“It worked for a while.” Irene said with a shrug.

“Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me.” Amelia realized, “And by doing so, you also let Sherlock know.”

“I knew you two would keep my secret.” Irene said nonchalantly.

“You couldn’t.” Sherlock said pointedly, Amelia let out a small scoff at his passing remark. He’d noticed that Amelia was slowly growing more reserved, hiding her other emotions under sarcasm, and not even he could get her to talk.

“But you did, didn’t you?” Irene said with a smirk, glancing around the living room once again, “Where’s my camera phone?”

“It’s not here,” said John with a look of contempt, “We’re not stupid.”

“Then what have you done with it?” Irene questioned, “If they’ve guessed you’ve got it, they’ll be watching you.”

“If they’ve been watching me,” Amelia said, forming an intricate alibi, “they’ll know that Sherlock and I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago.”

“I need it.” Irene said insistently.

“Well,” Amelia said with a winning smile, “we can’t just go and get it, can we?”

“Molly Hooper.” John said out of the blue, suddenly inspired, “She could collect it, take it to Bart’s, then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back.”

“Very good, John.” Sherlock said with a smile, “Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions.”

“Thank you.” John said, picking up the phone to call Molly, “So, why don’t…Oh, for—” He trailed off, seeing Sherlock reach into his jacket pocket, retrieving the camera phone and holding it up.