Emily's POV
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I never used to be like this. I mean, I've always had a quick temper, and have never been afraid to physically reprimand someone if they really irritate me- but what I just did then was unacceptable. I've never had any reason to view myself as unstable before, but that's the second time I have come very close to killing someone purely because I wanted to. Not because my life was in danger. Anger alone does not justify my actions. I've only started acting like this recently. Since I got involved with Sherlock, and the game.
I frown, feeling unsettled, and look around the room for Irene. She's not in here, so I decide to investigate. I step out into the corridor, looking around at the wooden walls and marble floor, trying to pick up on anything that will give me an indication of her whereabouts. I'm not Sherlock, or Millie- but I initially became a detective for a reason. I scan the area, and notice the not-quite-faded imprints of bare feet on the ground. I follow them until they stop outside a door at the end of the corridor. I test the handle, pushing it gently- it's unlocked. I steel myself for a reaction, and walk into the room:
She's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window, pensive.
"Irene...?"
She turns slowly to look at me. I hold out the riding crop. She sighs, leans forward, and takes it, lying it down on the bed beside her. I shift, uncomfortable-
"Are you alright?"
"I'll live."
She doesn't seem particularly angry, or frightened. I take a deep breath-
"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I shouldn't have done that. It was completely unnecessary. I'm not...not usually like that. And what I said, I didn't mean-"
"Emily, come over here."
I pause, confused:
"What?"
She pats the space on the bed next to her. I oblige hesitantly, and she looks at me carefully-
"I don't blame you, Emily. I know the whole Moriarty situation is a sensitive subject, and I apologise for using it against you. I shouldn't have compared you to him- he's a sick, sick man. I don't think I have ever met anyone who enjoys destruction as much as he does; he loves it, and he obsesses over it. You aren't like him. No-one's like him."
I wasn't expecting that.
Irene's serious expression suddenly changes, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She leans in, her voice a sultry whisper -
"Besides, I like a girl who isn't afraid to stand up for herself. Who uses a bit a violence. It's very sexy."
I laugh-
"I just tried to kill you, and now you're flirting with me?"
"I'll flirt with anyone and anything if the opportunity arises, darling."
She trails her fingers down the length of my arm, and I raise my eyebrows-
"Wow. Still, at least you don't hold a grudge. Are you going to talk to Millie at some point?"
Irene stops smiling:
"I don't think that's necessary."
"I'm sure she didn't mean what she said either-"
"Oh, she did. And I meant every word too. I don't like Millie, and I'm not going to until she realises that she's doing Sherlock more harm than good."

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The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}
Fanfiction'Moriarty is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is the organiser of half that is evil and nearly all that is undetected in this great city.' ~Sherlock Holmes, The Final Problem Shipped off to an expensive resort in Switzerland, Sherlock, John, Millie...