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

Chapter 20- Contrary

Millie's POV

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Today is our last day in Switzerland.

I'm still in hospital, but only for monitoring, now. I'm certain I haven't sustained any brain damage, because I can think as coherently as before, with few deviations. After the explosion, Mycroft was forced to get in contact with us. He's arranged for our departure, tomorrow morning. Irene's gone. We didn't get to say goodbye; she was taken aside by some of Mycroft's men, and hasn't made a reappearance. It's sad, in a way, because she's gone from being The Woman with all her charm and wit and independence, to a woman who is completely reliant on others for safety. It's not much of a life.

Mycroft is furious with us, which is somewhat ironic. Apparently we 'just weren't focused enough', and now the captives and the reputation of British security are dead because  of it. 

Moran hasn't made an appearance, which is odd. The explosion left us all vulnerable, so it was the perfect opportunity to strike out and cause damage. But, so far, nothing. However, I know the lust for revenge fuels determination; it is guaranteed that he will follow us back to London. Having worked for Moriarty for well over five years, Moran has had the chance to accumulate strings of codes and dangerous information, all of which pose a serious threat to us and society. I can't stop myself from wondering how Moriarty is going to respond to this change of events. I'm guessing he'll find it funny. A new player in his game. A new challenge. 

No-one has brought Moriarty up in conversation. I'm not sure what he's going to do next. The explosion, although devastating, did not have the desired effect- both Emily and Irene are still alive. He's either going to try again, and continue trying until they're dead, or he's going to take a step back and bide his time. I'm going to go with the latter, because in Moriarty's eyes, Emily is the perfect weapon. The perfect tool for corruption. He can use her to get to Sherlock, and therefore she's probably more valuable alive than dead. But he will try again. Because it's in his nature. Sherlock told me about the day they met at the swimming pool: their first encounter, and the conversation that was exchanged.

"No-one ever gets to me."

And Moriarty will do everything in his power to keep it that way.

The curtain around my bed is drawn back. A woman in scrubs with a contagious smile and short, blonde hair pulls out a chair and sits down next to me.

"Millie Shon?"

"Yes."

"Hi, Millie, sorry about this- I'm sure the last thing you want is more tests after all you've been through, but this won't take long, promise."

"That's alright," I say, as she tears the paper syringe packet. "You speak excellent English."

"I should hope so," she laughs. "I am English. A medical receptionist, actually. I'm here on...vocational business. Getting experience. I'm training to be a nurse."

She looks roughly the same age as me. Perhaps two years older. I make some half-deductions as she takes blood. Other than the obvious, domestic facts, it's very difficult. She's virtually impossible to read. Her fingers are what interest me the most. They're exceptionally nimble and fast-paced, as she unscrews vials and pockets discarded needles. At first I think it's because, like Emily, she's spent so much time typing. But she lacks Emily's dexterity- her finger movement is more deliberate. If anything, it's more comparable to Moran's steadfast tightening of digits around a trigger. Interesting. 

"Almost done," she says, pausing to look up at me. She stops, frowning: "Hang on, I recognise you. Millie Shon. I thought it sounded familiar. God, I'm thick at times. You've been in the paper, back in London. With Sherlock Holmes, right?"