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

Chapter 24- The Devil's Advocate

Emily's POV

----------------------------------

I open my eyes, and for one blissful moment, I think it's just another late morning.

Unfortunately, my mind won't keep up this facade, and, unwillingly, I come to my senses.

I prop myself up in bed, and sit back against the headboard, closing my eyes and thinking. I am in such a tenuous situation- every action of mine, every thought, has to be analysed before executed. I am not going to be responsible for backlash. Not this time.

Millie broke Sherlock.

Millie and I, we are polar opposites. Where I am volatile, she is calm. When I'm instinctive, she's logical. This applies to our pasts, too. I grew up with a family. Millie had next to nothing; a mentally absent father and a physically absent mother. When her father took his life, she found herself alone. Once on the streets, she struggled, and was forced to turn to things that only desperation can spark; the usual alcohol, petty theft. Up to this point, this could be anyone's story. It's sadly familiar, embossed into the mind of society, and hardly a reason for blackmail.  But it was her involvement with the drug industry that triggered the fundamental chain of events. Millie became infamous. She stood out. She was intelligent, and unusually perceptive, so naturally people began to talk.

This was fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years ago, and Sherlock was a young man with an obsessive streak who was slowly and irreversibly destroying his life with opium and morphine. Mycroft Holmes was a budding governmental official, with a secret and plaguing concern for his younger brother. He tried everything; confinement, forced withdrawal, confiscation. Nothing worked. So, he turned to the source itself. He scanned drug cartels and systems for names, and that's how he heard about Millie. Mycroft caught her off guard, waiting for her to walk past, and engaging her in a sudden and unexpected conversation. He promised her money- a new life at that, if she did something for him in return. Millie hastily agreed, longing to escape the steady spiral of decline that was her existence.

However, this meant turning against the unspoken rules of the homeless and the addicted. When you're all similarly broken, secrecy and anonymity are everything. You don't speak of names, or of histories, or futures- and you certainly don't turn people in to the officials. But Millie did; she began honing in her skills, sharpening them, finding out everything she could about the strange, blue-eyed man who came in for his weekly fix. She sold him out. Trapped him, contacted Mycroft, then took her money and began re-building her life. It had disastrous consequences. Drugs are powerful things; you take them away too suddenly, and lives begin to crumble. Fears and longings become amplified. The pale, silver lines scarring Sherlock's wrists are the results of her actions.

According to Moriarty, she never knew it was Sherlock. The name was totally unfamiliar. It was only when she met him for a second time, as a detective, did she begin to make connections. She communicated with Mycroft, and made him promise never to bring up their situation.

She would keep her tarnished past concealed, fearing that it would fracture her relationship with Sherlock.

Unfortunately for her, Moriarty had other ideas. It was easy, according to him; all he had to do was contact some older clients, ask the drug lords and the cartel owners what they remembered about the thin, wasted youth that was Millie Shon. And then there was Mycroft himself. When Mycroft was forced to provide Moriarty with Sherlock's history, Millie's name was brought up on multiple occasions.

And now, he's using it against her.

I open my eyes, and stand up, pulling on some clothes and tying my hair back roughly. There's no point musing about it. I don't actually know if Moriarty's still here. I haven't left my room since the hasty escape from yesterday's confrontation.