the king's crown | j. moriarty (18+)

nineteen

NEVER ONCE, had Elizabeth been under police custody before. She eyed the man opposite her, sat behind his desk in a glass room. The walls behind him revealed the street, the majority of it a window-white hanging blinds half open and drawn across while she sat opposite him. The wall behind her, with the door, was pure glass and Elizabeth could turn her head to see the rest of Scotland Yard's officers if she wanted too. She didn't though, she faced forward, keeping her eyes in the room she was in; it seemed more polite.

"You." There were two other men in the room now, they bundled through the doors and the first man, the taller one, held the door open for the man behind him. As the familiar male walked around the girl sat on a leather chair across from D.I Lestrade, it took him a while to realise there was anyone else there. That didn't surprise Elizabeth however, she'd learnt of his considerable arrogance. No matter how remarkable, Sherlock was quite self-absorbed.

"You." Elizabeth returned with a smile, a meaningful one.

"Wait, you two have met?" It was Greg again, he was pointing at the two confused and cast his eyes to John Watson. Awkwardly, John tipped his head to the brunette sat below him, turning to address him in her seat. His left hand, pressed rather firmly at his side, flicked out a little as a greeting and he nodded at the girl, looking back up at Sherlock immediately.

"Hello, Elizabeth." John grunted, a smile pulling quickly at his lips out of manners alone, not because he was pleased to see her. Elizabeth watched his eyes fixate on the genius across the room, anticipation spiralling off of him as he flexed his hands at his sides. Something had happened, Elizabeth realised, something bad. Watching his eyes brim with unmovable worry, she followed his gaze to Sherlock who seemed equally as frantic.

"Wait," Greg repeated, placing a hand on his desk and scrunching his eyes close. When he opened them again, he touched the bridge of his nose and with the same hand pointed at Elizabeth, looking between the two men and the female. "You all know each other?" Dumbfounded, the detective sighed, eyebrows drawn over his eyes as he looked among those around him. Sherlock dismissed it, waving his hand in the air.

"It's a long story, it doesn't matter." Greg's eyebrows lifted and he clicked his tongue, scoffing a little.

"It does matter. She's a key part in this case."

'Key part in this case'. Elizabeth repeated it to herself and it tasted funny in her mouth as she watched the consulting detective and Scotland Yard inspector converse.

"She was at Moriarty's hearing, I met her again at that journalist's house-the one I told you about." He gushed, raising his voice to show how irrelevant it was, making them all feel like they'd just wasted the smallest part of his time. The man had his eyes scrunched, thinking, until they flashed open with a hum of an "Oh." Sherlock took a step forward leaning down to the brunette, "Oh!" John looked between the girl and his best friend again, not following.

"What is it?" John questioned, following the sharp crystals on the brunette like he could read them. "Did she help Moriarty? Did she know where the children were?"

"Even if she did," Sherlock looked away from her briefly, and to the man next to him, "How does that help us now? We found them, Moriarty's conditioned them with someone who looks like me-case solved." John took a small shuffle-step away from Sherlock, scowling at his friend with a gruff mutter back at his suddenly sharp attitude.

"For now, at least." Sherlock resumed his gaze back on the brunette, unaffected and his eyes widened, clasping his hands together; "You're good." Elizabeth pushed herself higher in her chair, looking between Lestrade and Sherlock,