Partners In Crime: Watch Them Fall Apart [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2: The Happy Lil' Heartbreaker

"Stay low, go fast. Kill first, die last. One shot, one kill. Not luck, all skill."

********************

After a few moments, Jim's phone rang.

It was a familiar song. Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees. It seemed rather funny. Such a lighthearted sounding song in such a tense atmosphere. Beth had to hold back a giggle.

"D'you mind if I get that?" his accent was a little thicker now. Most likely because of the embarrassment.

"No, no. Please. Go ahead." Sherlock nonchalantly said, "You've got the rest of your life."

James nodded his thanks before answering. His tone was annoyed, and he spoke angrily into the phone. Something about skinning someone... Sherlock watched with rapt attention as Beth sauntered towards him, swaying her hips suggestively.

She held out a little scrap of paper.

"My card." she mouthed, handing it to him with a practiced form of grace.

The Heartbreaker

Retrieval Specialist

Computer Expert

********************************

The cab ride back to 221B  Baker Street was mostly silent, and consisted mainly of Sherlock staring down at the business card in his hands, and John looking out of the window solemnly. In a daze, almost.

She... She was alive. Beth was alive! Sherlock would have been giddy. But that hadn't been Beth. It couldn't be. The Beth he remembered was...

He searched for the words.

Sweet?

Kind?

Compassionate?

But that hadn't been her real self. No. It had just been some wicked persona that she had taken on. Like a role an actress had to play.  A few hours ago, he would have given anything to see her again. But now... Knowing who she really was...

She was Moriarty. Well, his wife.

Moriarty.

Oh god. As if he could despise that name any more than he already did. It was the same last name as the woman he had loved.

She had lied about every single thing. Every single thing.

He should have known.

She had been.... Perfect. Absolutely perfect. So smart and beautiful and kind. Everything that he could have ever wanted. Ever needed. Put into a wonderful woman. She had been just like him. She had had perfect hair, and perfect grey eyes that made him turn into clay in her capable hands.

But she was married. She was a criminal.

He was the world's only consulting detective. He should have seen it. He should have noticed something about her that would have revealed it. It was his job. She had proven him to be wrong in even his only profession.

And now, he was sitting in a dark cab, the world outside of it completely dark, the only light coming from the moon, and the streetlights, and the cab itself. The driver was focused on the road, and Sherlock took that advantage to say, "I should have known."

His voice was small. Not like his usually confident tone.

John looked towards him, away from the window, "You couldn't have. She had been perfect."

"Exactly!" Sherlock was angry now. Angry at himself, "She was! She thought like me! She acted like me! She wasn't..." He struggled for the right word, "Normal."

Oh, but she wasn't really normal, was she?

No. Not even close. But part of him admired that. She was still smart, just not in the way he had known her. She was still kind, but only to James Moriarty. She was still compassionate, but only to people she only truly cared about.

She was still his Beth. Only for a different man.

Yet he still knew that he would never get her back. And he was fine with that. Yet he still felt as if he needed her. He still wanted her on his side.

And that's when he realized he was still under her spell.

Part of him hated her, sure.

But another part of him still loved her.

And the thought horrified him.