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

Chapter 60- Ice

Emily's POV

------------------

"Fill me in," says Mary, shrugging off her coat as she sits down, spreading it on her knees. "Something's happened. I can tell."

Millie leans across the table for Sherlock's phone, wincing at the strain placed on the fresh stitches. Mary makes no effort to assist her, despite being near enough to reach for it herself.

"Here," says Millie, breathlessly. "We received this earlier this morning."

Mary reads the text, her expression very cold and very unreactive. I watch her eyes flit from left to right as she takes in the words on the screen, reading slowly, analysing quickly. Eventually, she nods, silently, and hands the phone back to Sherlock.

"Explain."

"Magnussen wants something from me – something important. ’You're my highest bidder'. Deals aren't made without a sacrifice from both parties."

John rubs the crease between his eyes, agitated.

"And you think it's going to be that simple? That all we need to do is turn up at this coolant and he'll hand over the file, just like that?"

"You overestimate people, John. You're all incredibly basic."

"Charming."

"Not charming. Truthful. Your habits are predictable, your minds are stagnating, your little, practiced routines will always prove to be your downfall."

"But not you, of course," says John, with sarcastic reverence. He's known Sherlock for too long now, and the occasional condescending insult to the lesser humanity doesn't carry the same shock value as it did before.

"Not me," confirms Sherlock, unaware of Millie's heavy sigh and my silent scoff.

"Does it ever cross your mind that you might be underestimating Magnussen as an opponent?"

Sherlock looks at John with genuine pity.

Mary, with her ability to perceive the mechanisms of Sherlock and John's relationship, decides that now is the time to interrupt the conversation.

"Are you alright, Emily? You look a bit peaky."

I opt to ignore the glances that are exchanged between Millie, Sherlock and John.

"Just tired."

Mary raises her eyebrows disbelievingly, but chooses not to pursue the matter. John clears his throat, and turns to Sherlock to continue the discussion.

"You actually want us to meet this man, today, in a place that is as far away from civilisation as you can get in greater London?"

"Yes."

"When?" asks Millie.

John regards her steadily for a moment. "You're not going anywhere. You've already torn a suture."

"And consumed the entirety of your medication," says Sherlock, under his breath. I'm not sure I've heard him correctly, and it was spoken so quietly John doesn't appear to have picked up on it at all. Millie cuts across Sherlock, and I decide to put his dark muttering down to misinterpretation on my behalf.

"It's healing. You said so yourself."

"That doesn't mean you're in any fit state to-"

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't."

"We're just meeting him. There's no heavy action required."

"I agree with John," Mary says, softly.