The confined room was illuminated by a single candle.
Images of flames danced across the irises of the two people staring at each other from either side of the circular table; not a single word has been spoken yet. The candle was cradled in a soft crown of velvety roses, every petal as ghostly white as the silk dress of the woman with her chin resting on the palm of her propped up hand.
Her companion, the beetle-eyed, fat man with the bushy moustache, was quivering and his teeth could be heard to be chattering softly. His clammy palms were sweaty and gross against the white tablecloth his hands were pressed against.
Obviously, he was at gunpoint.
The woman holding the pistol brushed a stray curl back into her sleek, raven bun and blew a soft breath towards the flame tauntingly.
The blue fire trembled and flashed red and yellow before once again emitting its cold, blue light, reflecting its colours across the even colder ice blue of the woman's eyes.
Her meek companion's greying moustache was fluttery from nervosity.
The woman cocked her gun and pushed the barrel closer into the man's temple, eliciting a sudden shudder through his spine.
She tipped her head thoughtfully to the side and opened her cherry-red mouth, drawing a short breath before speaking.
"Let's start with those illegal nuclear bomb plans in the closet behind you."
YOU ARE READING
Book I : Fantàsticque :: The Estranged Trilogie ::: A Sherlock Fanfiction
FanficWhat you think is true, is definitely, most certainly not true. It could be half true; your mind could even be playing tricks on you. It might not be the truth at all. For all you know. Enter Francesca Dela-Cruz Arlington. She's a high stakes poker...
