Eccedentasiast (A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Twenty Two

Two things had been made crystal clear to Lucy about Irene Adler in the weeks subsequent to her arrival. First, she had the unique ability to wrap people around her fingers with the slightest curve of her lips. The woman screamed desire, a walking personification of sin. Second, she was also undoubtedly the most manipulative person Lucy had ever had the distinct displeasure of knowing. There was a distinct air around her that put Fitzgerald on edge. The Woman wore danger like one of her many, many dresses. Beautifully.

Sherlock was still angry with her. Evidently what she had said had hit deep, tearing apart the brittle foundations of their friendship with merciless ruin. It was as if time had reset and all that was left was the coldness she'd been subjected to upon their meeting. He'd taken to avoiding her like the plague, commanding Lestrade to bear news of any developments with the Peters. So far there had only been one : Christine and Jensen had been sighted entering  the house of Elaine Czekovsky, a Russian billionaire who lived a notoriously lavish lifestyle. This single chance brought them to today, sitting in a dreary conference room at Mycroft's behest.

They'd been sitting in that room for ten minutes before Mycroft deigned to grace them with his presence. The quiet sigh of relief that crept out of Lucy went unheard as Ethan stopped his seemingly unending stream of drivel that poured out of his mouth in an ill-fated attempt to assuage the tension that had descended upon the room the moment Sherlock had walked in and picked the seat furthest away from Lucy in silent challenge. The same tension had only risen when Irene had swanned into the room, hips swaying, a vision of mystery as she sat next to Sherlock, resting a careless arm over his leg in a way that was borderline scandalous.

The eldest Holmes' eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, brows furrowing as he took in the general air of discomfort, the crinkled up beer can that lay at Lucy's feet and the distance between the two detectives. His lips curled in distaste at the underlying subtext before he looked up, choosing to focus on the task at hand.

"As you already know, it has been confirmed that the Peters have been sighted at Czekovsky's house. You have all been called here today because you have been drafted into the big leagues. You will be going undercover on a covert MI6 mission to capture them at last. Latest intel tells us that Czekovsky will be throwing a party tomorrow evening."

The smile Irene flashed Sherlock was positively ravenous, dark eyes alight with a hidden agenda. Lucy groaned internally, the few scraps of enthusiasm she had incinerating at the thought of spending an evening watching Irene shamelessly flirt with Sherlock. She was brought back to the real world by Mycroft continuing his list of orders.

"You will be expected to take down the Peters at the earliest convenience. Good Luck."

He nodded curtly, eyes hard before sweeping out of the room. Lucy turned around, opening her mouth to speak only to be cut off by Sherlock standing up.

"Don't be late."

He refused to meet her eyes, straightening his coat before striding through the glass doors.

Wonderful.

AN : Sorry for the short chapter, but the next chapter is already in progress 😉