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

Chapter 28- A Broken Woman

Emily's POV

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It's ten o'clock, and the storm outside has increased in tempo; lashing is the only fitting adjective, as the rain claws at the windows and the wind hisses against the stucco walls.

I'm pacing, now, something that I must have picked up from being around Sherlock for such long periods of time. I'm edgy, nervous even, as I wait for Millie. I don't know what to tell her. I can hope to find redemption in the truth, but, in this world of lies and concealment, doubts are unshakable, tattooed into the most authentic of statements.

There's also a small, consistent voice working at my resolve.

What if he lied?

What if Moriarty made up Millie's past, a fabrication designed to keep me in place and dissolve under investigation? He showed me the written declarations he'd collected from various cartel owners, and at the time I'd believed them to be certified- but what's to have stopped him from creating them for his own purposes? Sherlock told me about the 'Richard Brook' ordeal, almost four years ago; about the false accusations, the way he destroyed a reputation like it was nothing.

He convinced a nation.

I stop pacing.

I think I just heard knocking at my door, although it's hard to distinguish against the stuttering of rain on the thin glass.

I cross the room, slide the lock back, and pull open the door.

Millie stands in the flickering, yellow light of the hallway, her face set and her expression cold. The storm has taken its toll out on her, too; her coat is dark with rainwater, and her hair is slick and pasted to her forehead in unravelling curls. She steps past me, silent and uninvited. I lean outside, checking the corridor briefly, scanning for company. Reassured that she came alone, I shut the door properly.

She's not behind me. Confused, I look around, and end up following the wet footprints on the carpet to the passage outside my bedroom.

"Millie?"

She turns to look at me, and I have to press down the dull ache in my chest when I see the icy indifference etched into her features.

I've not seen her like this before.

"Was it before or after?"

"What...?"

She nods curtly at the bathroom door.

"Did you know about Irene, when you slept with him?"

"No, of course not-"

"What about the Brandon House bombings?"

My silence is her answer. She gives me a look; a long, calculating, contemptuous look.

I feel my own temper start to flare.

But I push it down, and address her as calmly as I can manage.

"I didn't ask you to come over to discuss my mindset. I need to explain something- something I couldn't tell you before because of the situation we were in."

Millie leans against the wall, still stonily unmoving, but listening, now. I take a deep breath:

"I lied to you because it was my only option," I begin, ignoring her humourless laugh. "He turned up at my apartment, telling me that he was going to stay here until he'd threatened his way back to control. Moran has been paying off his clients, and Moriarty said that he needed a stable location to manage his meetings from. At least, that's what I understood."