The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}

Chapter 14- Sinners Never Sleep

Emily's POV

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It's been three weeks.

Three weeks of frosty glares from John. Three weeks of cold silence from Sherlock. Three weeks of disbelieving glances from Irene.

And three weeks of nothing; no leads for our case, no criminal activity, no more phone calls or strange hacking codes.

It's not been fun.

Moriarty hasn't made an appearance since the knife-in-the-mirror incident, and Mycroft refused to deport Irene, on the basis that the danger would spur Sherlock on to make headway with the case. Mycroft's icy disparagement for Irene's life is another reason for the rifts that are beginning to form between all of us.

There's a noticeable tension between Sherlock and Millie. Irene's been too busy fretting about her survival to continue her quest to conquer the sociopath, and has kept to herself- so you'd think the atmosphere would have eased off  a bit. On the contrary, Sherlock and Millie have barely spoken, and when they do exchange conversation, it's clipped and factual. Everybody's on edge.

And I feel responsible.

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Millie's POV

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Emily has scarcely left our room, since the confrontation three weeks ago.

She's been on her laptop continuously;  the noise of unnaturally fast-paced fingers tapping on keys can be heard from the living room. She's working on decoding the string of numbers that accompanied the video message from the criminal.

In other words, she's trying to crack Moriarty's code.

And, judging by the perpetual frown on her face, it's no easy feat.

I think she's trying to prove herself.

I wake up in the morning, and she's on her laptop. I fall asleep whilst she's still typing. She leaves the room occasionally to eat and drink, but that's it. I've tried to persuade her to take a break and join us, but each time I'm met with the same, wan smile, and a shrug of her shoulders. She's totally absorbed in her work; she's lost weight, she's pale and drawn, but at the same time, she's very determined. She hasn't really spoken to any of us, and the topic of her involvement with Moriarty has not been breached. I think we're all in a prolonged state of shock. Emily's still hurting from John's outburst, Irene's constantly terrified, and Sherlock is coldly calculating. He's been ignoring me thoroughly: he avoids eye contact, and on the rare occasion we actually converse, it's very blunt. I'm not entirely sure what I've done. But I'm trying not to think about it. I'm an adult; I don't need to regress to equal petulance to prove my point.

It still stings, though.

There's a frustrated sigh from our bedroom, so I get up to investigate. I look into the room, and see Emily in her usual cross-legged stance on the bed, head in her hands.

"Everything alright?"

She looks up, startled, then gives me a brief, forced smile.

"Sorry, this is just taking longer than I had anticipated. It should be cracked by tonight, though."

I hover in the doorway, uncertain:

"Emily, you don't have to-"

She waves my protest away with her hand, and shakes her head.

"I know I don't have to. I want to."

"Why don't you take a break? Surely one day won't do any harm."