Three Months (BBC Sherlock OC continuation story)

1

  Scarlett's POV...

There I was, walking away from the scene that Sherlock and John were at. As I reached the street, a sleek black car pulled up and I got in without question,"Mycroft."

"Yes?" He looked over at me.

I hate his arrogance,"Where are we going this time?"

"Paris,"He looked at me,"How are you at shooting?"

"Better than you,"I countered.

Once we made it to the base I suited up. It was only Mycroft and I, there was no need for an entire team. It was just a negotiation with... um. I honestly don't know who it is, I was just told today. All Mycroft really said was that I needed to know how to shoot, and that I need to keep a straight face. Also, I needed to wear a dress often. Boring.

His people gave me a room to change into a black Medusa Button Mini Dress from Versace, black Suede Ankle boots by Dolce&Gabbana, black Medusa Button Cropped Jacket by Versace, and a Gold Hibiscus bag by Versace. I guess that Mycroft thinks Versace is my style, but it's not. I'm more of a GAP, Aeropostale, Vans, Converse, Levi's, Adidas and Nike person.

I walked out and met with Mycroft who was in a better tailored suit than normal,"You look lovely my dear."

"And you are looking especially aristocratic,"I said back,"Are we going to get actual equipment?"

"Yes, but not now,"He checked his watch.

I'm bored so I deduce,"6102R Grand Complications, Patek Philippe. You've had this for a while, I'd say over three years. Not used often due to sentimental reasons and tended to frequently, Self-Winding. Sherlock gave this to you as a birthday present. Something you haven't gotten from him in a long time considering how well-kept it's been. Am I wrong?"

He cleared his throat,"No. You are correct, I knew there was a reason that I kept you around."

"That's a lie, you just like me," I replied,"We need to be there in four and a half minutes."

He hurried behind me and we were taken to the airstrip by one of his workers. On the way there I deduced: A girl my age, an old couple, and a dog.

The girl was fifteen, just left the hospital visiting a very sick person, there was a mask in her pocket. Her parents were neglectful due to how skinny and sad she was. That girl needed help. The old couple, married for about 43 years, that's an achievement in it of itself. They were feeding birds, holding hands, leaning on one another. They were going to die happy and together. The dog was a different story, he was abandoned. The tag on his collar was old, but intact reading Lucas. It was a young german shepherd, originally from Sussex, but somehow made its way here to London. He was fed daily, but by who?

We reached the airstrip and got out of the car. It was colder outside but not to an extent that I was freezing. We we reached the jet and the last faces that I thought that I'd see were there,"Sherlock, John? What're you two doing here?"

"Thought we'd just pop by, see if you wanted to-"Sherlock studied my clothes,"Versace is not your style."

"More of a casual person aren't you?" John continued,"Aeropostale and such."

I laughed and looked at Mycroft who was smiling,"I called them."

"Thank you,"I turned back,"A proper goodbye is-"

Sherlock stepped up and hugged me, first. I hugged back,"you've been gone for less than thirty minutes and it feels like forever."

"I thought you made it a point not to get attached?"I laughed letting him go and going to John,"I know that we haven't had much time to talk or even sit together, but we'll have plenty of time to do that later. Both of you."

Sherlock leaned over and whispered in my ear,"Endommagé et détaché ne sont pas les seuls adjectifs au monde."

I nodded, Mycroft lead me into the jet and we left. Mycroft sat in the seat across from me, and fell asleep. It was a nice jet so there was a fridge, food, and other things that you couldn't find on other private jets. Beforehand, he had me pack some things that I could use on the mission that weren't a necessity so I pulled my laptop out and started to type...

Day one of an 87-day journey. First order of business, the trip.

Mycroft is a great man, really. At least despite what his brother says. Speaking of his brother, Sherlock has been acting like an emotional ball of sentiment ever since he got back from Siberia. I could never conceive that he had all these emotions hidden inside of that inhuman person. Though our adventures together have been, extraordinary, I think that Sherlock is more than he or Mycroft, John, Mrs. Hudson, or even himself let on.

I, on the other hand, am a... well, sociopath with horrid and ridiculous amounts of emotions that are being pushed back to whatever reserves are in my mind. I'm not sure how to use my emotions. Love, hate, sadness, happiness, enjoyment, loathing, heartache, and pretty much any other feeling that I have is shoved away and comes back in the form of my severe depression.

That's not the point of this entry though. It's the journey to Paris. It's nice to watch the sea and land go by. The fact that it's so quiet makes it even better. Though I'm pretty sure there's only a few more minutes before landing in Paris. Oh, just thinking of  the mission in Paris makes me feel like I'm actually accomplishing something. I'm glad that I get to do this, well, I mean go to Paris for a good reason. Especially with someone who has immense amounts of power in any Government, a.k.a. Mycroft Holmes. He's a very intelligent individual and has many unique skills that have been proven to be extremely useful.

Signing off for now, Scarlett L. Watson

HELLO!!!! How's the first chapter? I'd like to know. Vote, comment and do something else! Signing off for now, Crystal--Wayne

BAI!!!