The Anonymous | S.H. • O.C.

- 3 -

Sherlock played with the piece of paper between his fingers.

"Are you going to call her?" John spoke, coming from the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand.

"Why would I? It's not like I need her help."

John took a seat in his usual chair, looking at the man sitting at the wooden table little ways away who was looking at the slip given to him the previous day.

"She seemed to know quite a lot about the case already and if she can get into the security system like she said, it could save us all a lot of time."

"I don't need her help!" He slammed his hands onto the table as he sat up and began pacing the room.

"Why are you so angry at her?"

"I'm not."

A smirk grew to John's lips as he started to see what was going on.

"You feel like you're being challenged, don't you?"

"No."

"You do! This is a lot like your whole thing with The Woman" John sat up with a smug smile.

"Don't bring The Woman into this."

"Just call her!" He called out, almost to a yell.

"I'm not calling her! She's-" Sherlock is cut off when a voice interrupts from the doorway of their flat.

"She's what?" There in their flat is the one and only Ann, coming in at the perfect moment.

"I know what you're thinking and I'm not the killer."

Both men stare at her, quite surprised that she just so happened to be in their presence when discussing her.

"How'd you get in?" Sherlock tenses up unnoticeably.

"Landlady. I think her name's Mrs.Hudson? So, this is the flat where all the 'magic' happens, eh?" Ann walks around the flat, looking at trinkets placed around and any pictures on the walls. Her eyes land on what appears to be a human skull above the fireplace. She picks it up to admire it when she finds a box of cigarettes left behind. She quirks her eyebrow as she holds the box in one hand, as if to ask about it.

Sherlock walks over and snatches the box from her hand and retreats back to the opposite side of the room.

"I thought you were quitting smoking?" John wonders.

"I am." Sherlock places a cigarette to his lips and searches his body for a lighter; unsuccessfully finding one, he proceeds to search nearby areas for one. Giving up, he sits on the couch against the flat's wall and leans his head back, his cigarette now in hand, and sighs in defeat.

"Every addict needs a cheat-day." Ann walks over to the man in distress, pulling a black lighter out of her right coat pocket.

She approaches the front of him and kneels her left leg on one side of the man and leans forward to him. His head is already sat up to see what she was doing. She gets the cigarette out of his hand and places it between his lips. Flicking the lighter on, she ignites the cigarette and leans forward to him even more, missing his face and going to his ear, whispering the words, "isn't that right?"

She stands back up, pulling her leg away from the man's side, and puts the lighter back to her pocket.

"What do you know about addiction?" John asks her, looking slightly mortified.

"We all have our secrets, now; don't we?" A smirk tugs to her lips again when she flicks a look at John, meeting his eyes as she walks past him and takes a seat in what she doesn't know is his usual chair.