Partners In Crime: Watch Them Fall Apart [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4: Dominatrix

"Beautiful liar. Gorgeous teller of tall tales. Of course I loved you. I'm still clapping at the wonderful show you put on for me. But miss you? No, no. You cannot miss someone who never existed in the first place."

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

"We solve crimes. I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold too much hope."

The sofa was plush under John's hands. The decor surrounding them was lavish and expensive. Buckingham Palace certainly was the amazing spectacle that it had been described as. Mycroft Holmes was as neat as ever. His suit was perfectly clean, and fit his body perfectly. Made exactly for him. Working for the British government certainly had its perks. John Watson himself was dressed in his usual plain black jeans and jumper, with a button up shirt underneath. He looked a little under dressed for the occasion, yet given how he had been given no warning to coming here, it was acceptable.

The same could not be said for Sherlock.

His own long, lanky, pale body was covered in only a white sheet. Yes, only. Suffice to say, Mycroft was less than pleased.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock grumbled, wrapping the bedding around himself a little tighter.

The elder Holmes brother sighed, looking Sherlock up and down.

"Brother, we are in Buckingham Palace. The very heart of the British nation," Mycroft's voice was posh. Upper class. Which made the rest of the sentence a bit more surprising when he frustratingly snarled, "Sherlock Holmes, put some trousers on."

"What for?" Sherlock raised his chin. John had to bite back a laugh.

"Your client."

"And that is...?"

Suddenly, another man walked into the room. He was also wearing a suit, and his hair was thinning and grey. "Entirely anonymous."

Mycroft smiled, shaking the new man's hand, "I apologize for my little brother."

"He's a full time occupation, I assume?"

Sherlock cleared his throat with a scowl. The man daintily walked up to him. "Ah. Mr. Holmes the younger. You... look taller in your photographs."

Sherlock didn't reply, simply rolled his eyes, annoyed. He stood up, taking a few long strides towards the exit. Yet Mycroft did as well, stepping onto the white sheet, causing it to fall down to Sherlock's waist, and he caught it before it could fall any further.

Sherlock looked back at his brother, fuming, "Get off!"

"Stay here a few minutes. Please."

Sherlock growled. "Five minutes."

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

Sherlock had gotten dressed. His usual attire. Black trousers. Maroon button up shirt. Black blazer. They discussed a woman named Irene Adler first, before moving onto a topic that Sherlock dreaded.

Mycroft slowly slid a folder across the coffee table in front of them. It was thin, maybe only containing 15 pages. It was titled: Moriarty, Lizbeth Joy.

Sherlock glared at it a few seconds, as if expecting Beth to pop out of it and give him that haunting sly grin.

"Go on. Open it, brother. She was briefly affiliated with Irene Adler." his tone was forceful.

The younger Holmes sibling nodded, gingerly opening the folder. He was greeted with a picture of her.

She wasn't looking at the camera. The picture had been taken without her knowing. Most likely by one of Mycroft's men. She had been wearing black stockings with simple brown boots, along with some lower thigh length brown shorts, and a plain black short sleeved shirt. James was beside her, holding onto her arm. But he was looking directly at the camera. Sherlock understood. He was leading her away for it. Towards a safer place.

He started reading the file.

Name: Lizbeth Joy Moriarty

Age: 27

Height: 5'7

Weight: 110 lbs

It had a few more descriptions of her appearance. Her personality. Her actions and known heists. Part of it made his heart drop. Made him sick. Then there were a few pages of nothing but blurry pictures of her.

Her and James, barely noticeable amongst a crowd of people, both holding shopping bags full of groceries.

Beth knocking on Irene Adler's door, asking entrance.

A picture that didn't contain Beth herself, but instead simply showed a diamond in a case, and a hand reaching out of the shadows for it.

Mycroft spoke. "I believe you know who that is.  It seemed that she dropped out of the sky one day. She was the biggest news story in the States when she was 16, as she had disappeared after her brother was murdered. Glances of her came up around the world, but she wasn't a big deal until now, because of her recently discovered relationship to James Moriarty."

Sherlock nodded, flipping through more pictures.

Beth and James walking, someone close behind them. The man had blond hair and greenish blue eyes, with a dancer's build. His hair was messy and unkempt, with a sort of rugged cut. He was dressed in a black sweater with camouflage themed trousers. Not to mention the 4 scars decorating his face. Bodyguard? Yes and no. Sherlock could tell just from the picture. He had the outline of a weapon on his hip, mostly hidden by the bulk of the sweater and the slight looseness of the pants. The picture was clearer than the others, and Sherlock wished that he could see more detail.

His brother glanced over, noticing the detective's curiosity.

"That's the Moriarty's bodyguard and sniper - Sebastian Moran. A colonel in the British army who ended up being dishonorably discharged after he got into a tiff with a fellow colonel."

"Tiff?" John inquired.

Mycroft nodded, "They argued, and after a few punches, the other colonel ended up falling into a bar stool, hitting his head on the bar counter, and suffering severe trauma to the brain. Moran was discharged the moment he was sober enough to comprehend what was happening."

"So... What about Beth?" John was leaning forward in his seat in anticipation.

"She's robbed an unknown number of banks, stolen an unknown number of rare and valuable items, and killed at least 61 people. We believe that she is or at connected to a thief called-"

"The Heartbreaker." Sherlock finished the sentence for him.

"Who?"

The brothers looked at each other. "A thief, assassin, and computer hacker that tormented the world a few years ago. At every crime scene, she left a symbol. A red heart that was winking."

John gulped... "When... When they kidnapped me, I had been walking down the street to go to the shops. That's when that man - Moran - Got to me. He held a gun to my side and forced me into an alley. That's where Beth was waiting for me. Then... We fought. While I was trying to get away, before they knocked me out, I managed to tear at her clothing. I ripped off the bottom of her tank top. It revealed a tattoo near her hip. A- A red heart. A winking red heart."

Sherlock jumped up. "Yes! She is The Heartbreaker! Yes!"

Mycroft was quick to his feet as well, helping John out of his seat. "Dr. Watson, did you see any other identifying marks?"

"Well... Yes. There were a lot of scars on her abdomen. Bullet wound scars. Scars inflicted by knives and burns and all sorts of things. She must have been in a lot of fights. But..."

"But?"

"... Near her stomach... Someone had carved initials there." John closed his eyes, recalling the memory.

"Who's initials? What letters?" Sherlock was now grabbing onto John's shoulders, almost as if he was getting ready to shake him.

"JM. The initials were JM."

All three of them met each other's eyes in amazement.

"Moriarty. James Moriarty."