Secrets (Sherlock)

Great game

Quinn had spent the last three weeks making a perfect replica of a pink phone Jim have her that day at the cafe. It took so long, and so much effort, that she didn't have any time to do any research or studying on that note that her 'brother' gave her.

Sighing, she waited in the seat at the same cafe in Hampstead, waiting for Jim to show up. She had seen john and Sherlock once since the stitches, but it was only because she was hungry, and decided John seemed like a reasonable person to eat lunch with. Sherlock, not so much. She really only saw him when she went to pick up John.

Sighing, Quinn downed the rest of her black coffee, giving up on Jim. Just as she stood up, she saw his familiar Westwood suit march in.

"Sure as hell took you long enough," she said, flopping the bag in front of him, standing up now.

"You know, your the only person in all of England who can talk to me like that and not meet death later that evening?"

Jim gestured for her chair, and she plopped back into her seat. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"There's your bloody phone. Took me forever to make the infernal device, but I did it nonetheless. Perfect replica. Down to the strange shade of pink in the cover, and the small scratch along the camera."

Jim stared at her, figuring out exactly what was going to happen. He took the phone out, plugged a small chip into the back compartment, resealed it, and passed it back to her. Sliding a pure white envelope, like the one at her apartment, and a fountain pen, he told her to address it to 'Sherlock Holmes.' Which she did. "Keep it. I want you to put it in this box."

Jim took a box out of his bag, and placed it on the table. "And don't say anything about this to anyone. Anyone."

Quinn sighed, grabbed the box, and stood up. "And Quinn?"

She turned towards him, waiting. "I think you should have a bath at around noon today. It's the best time to."

Quinn stared skeptically at Jim. She knew he was hinting at something, and she would figure it out indefinitely. "Ok. Bye Jim."

She left the cafe, and decided to walk home. It would take a while, sure, but she wanted to stop by to see john on the way. The box and phone were shoved into her backpack, so no one would know she had them.

Ten minutes into walking, it started to rain. Cursing under her breath, Quinn quickly started running. After several minutes of running in the downpour, she made it to 221B. Hoping it was unlocked, she turned the handle. Luckily, it was, and she ran inside. Sighing, she rung out her blood red hair, the water dripping into the doormat. She could hear people walking upstairs, and faint voices, but she didn't hear the haunting sound of a violin that she so loved.

She went up the stairs and knocked on their apartment door. The voices stopped, and she heard slight shuffling. After a few moments, John opened the door, and frowned when he saw Quinn all soaked. "Quinn. Please come in."

She smiled at him, and stepped into the apartment. As she walked in, Quinn spotted Sherlock standing by the window, and Mycroft was sat on the couch.

"I am so sorry for barging in. But, it started raining and I was still several blocks from my flat."

"It's fine," john said, taking in my sopping wet clothes. "I'll get you a towel."

The moment john left, Quinn dropped her smile and glared daggers at Mycroft.

"If looks could kill," she heard Sherlock mutter.

"I still hate you, you bastard," she said to Mycroft.

"And what a pleasure it is to see you again too, Q. How have you been?"

"You saw me three bloody days ago," she said, smirking as she saw the cut still on his cheek. "I see I have left my mark on you. Looking lovely."

"As if you are one to be talking."

He was right, though. With the fading gash across her cheek, her mascara running slightly, and her hair sticking to her face and head, she did look rather terrible.

Before she could make a witty comment, John came in holding a towel. "Here. This should suffice."

"Oh, thank you John. I don't know what I would do if you weren't here."

"You would probably be left out in the rain, knowing these two."

Quinn smiled at him, and lifted the towel up to dry her hair. Her pea coat was unsalvageable, so she just hung it on the railing by the stairs. When she remerged from the hallway, her hair was sticking all over the place. Sherlock was actually suppressing a smile. But Quinn saw right through it, and stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed.

"I am going to make myself some tea," she said walking towards the kitchen. "Before I die of fricken pneumonia."

Quinn walked into the kitchen, her backpack hanging off one shoulder. She opened it, and looked at the phone. Wasn't water damaged. Thank god.

She put it back in the bag, and started to boil the water on the stove. Five minutes later she emerged from the kitchen to see the three men arguing about something.

"Oi! What's with all the shouting?" she asked, staring at them.

"Just something Mycroft wanted."

"I will be back tomorrow," Mycroft said, but then quickly left. Quinn sighed, and plopped into the seat Mycroft was in previously.

"So, how have you guys been? Has been a hell of a few weeks for me."

"How so?" John asked.

"Oh, my friend asked me to build him something, and it took me forever, but I got it done."

John smiled and nodded, while Sherlock just stared blankly at her, gently plucking his violin with his thumb.

Quinn took a sip of her tea, and rung her hair a little more. The silence wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. It just felt weird.

She started at Sherlock, who stared back.

He suddenly spoke up. "Who?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, and brought the mug down from her lips. "'Who' what?"

"The tattoos. Who are they for?"

"The two people who changed my life."

"Which are..."

"None of your business."

They three sat in silence, the only sounds were that of Johns typing and the plucking of Sherlocks violin. Quinn soon found herself losing track of time, and just listening to the calm sound of Sherlocks violin.

She snapped out of it.

"Thank you for the tea. It seems like the rain stopped, so I'm going to head home. Goodbye john," she said, smiling at john. She then turned her head, and nodded at Sherlock. "Sherlock."

Quinn went home.