Fight for Me

Chapter 30

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but this club is exclusive, you need to be on the guest list," the bouncer spoke, eyeing Lydia suspiciously as she approached the doors of the club.

She had already fallen into the act and immediately responded with insult, "I beg your pardon, but I am on the list. Veronica Taylor, please check."

Although he clearly still did not believe that she belonged there, he skimmed the list and found her alias written there, courtesy of Mycroft, although he didn't know it yet. The bouncer lowered the list and nodded, "sorry, ma'am, you may go right in."

Lydia gave him an annoyed look and stormed passed him, keeping her head held high. Once she was safely inside the nightclub, however, she relaxed slightly. She had been worrying the whole cab ride that the bouncer would see through her immediately or that Mycroft would have realised that Sherlock had used his name to arrange this, but clearly she had been worrying about the wrong aspect of the mission.

Now that she was inside, her eyes scanned the impressive interior of the club. It was unlike any place she had gone to, which was not saying much considering she didn't frequent clubs, bars, or pubs of any kind as she lacked the money to spend there. But Lydia understood immediately why this club was so exclusive.

To keep up her act, she made her way down to the bar and sat at one of the stools, watching the elite letting loose around her. She felt incredibly out of place, not only because of the economic difference but also because she had only been to a nightclub a handful of times before this night, and it had been a while since she'd last been.

"What can I get you, love?" The bartender asked, quickly registering Lydia's presence at the bar.

She flashed him a smile and replied, "I'll have a London Fog."

Sherlock had agreed to her having one drink to fit in, of course that was also accompanied by all of the warnings of watching her drink like a hawk so that no one could drug her. None of the other victims had been drugged prior to their murders, so that would just be unfortunate for Sherlock's plan.

Under Sherlock's instructions, she watched the bartender carefully as he prepared her cocktail then handed it over to her. She flashed a smile of thanks and took a sip, her eyes travelling back over the others in the room.

"You here alone?" A male voice asked as she registered someone sitting in the stool beside her.

Lydia nodded, figuring it would be worth the time to chat him up. It wasn't like there was much else she would feel comfortable doing to pass the time. Besides, he could possibly be the killer, he was about the right height.

"Yeah, I just needed to get away from it all for a night. You?"

"Actually I got stood up for a date," he replied, obviously lying to garner sympathy. "You would think that by getting them into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city, they would at least be willing to show up and then ditch me."

She pretended to believe him, falling into a flirtatious conversation with him, while keeping an eye out for anyone acting suspicious or eyeing her. Every word she spoke was transmitted to John and Sherlock, causing the detective's jaw to clench tightly. He didn't understand why he was getting so angry with the man that she was flirting with, it was a rage that he had never experienced before.

Sentiment, he reminded himself, the anger now being redirected towards himself. How could he have allowed himself to get so close to someone? Why was it that she fascinated him, even now with confirmation of who she was? Of course he had yet to officially tie her to Moriarty, but that was no reason to be attracted to her, if anything he should be afraid that she was sent in by Moriarty to spy on him. Or worse, Moriarty had sent her in to seduce him and he had fallen right into Moriarty's plan.

"Mate, you alright?" Sherlock heard John ask, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh yes, I'm quite well. I'm simply trying to deduce everyone here to find the killer."

John narrowed his eyes at him, "then why do you look so angry? Are you sure that this has nothing to do with that man flirting with Lydia?"

"Why would it have anything to do with that? Oh right, you think I am in love with her, don't you. Well, rest assured, that I am just annoyed with how many people are here, it is making it extremely difficult to deduce them in a timely fashion."

"So you deny having grown close to Lydia then? Because you have been acting extraordinarily nice to her, which is abnormal, to say the least."

"And I have explained this before. I am merely trying to win over her trust. Now do shut up, I'm having enough trouble focusing with this disgusting music blaring at a deafening volume."

John did as Sherlock requested, but remained sure that Sherlock wasn't just angry at the number of potential suspects filling the space. He was jealous, even if he didn't realise it himself.

Lydia spent quite a while chatting with the man who had first approached her, Tom his name was. But she was soon whisked away by another asking to dance.

For the rest of the night she was passed from man to man, frustrating all of them when she did not go home with them or agree to a quickie in the loo. Following Sherlock's orders, she her lips did not touch another drop of alcohol throughout the rest of the night, but she allowed herself to act progressively drunker in hopes no one would get suspicious.

Hours later, Sherlock finally spoke into the comms, "alright, Lydia, I think it has been long enough, we can head home."

She flashed a smile at the man flirting at her and excused herself to pee, instead slipping out of the club and onto the street. Knowing that this was the moment that the killer was most likely to strike, she began to walk down the street in her falsified tipsy state, trying to keep her eyes out.

A sigh of relief passed her lips as she reached the spot that Sherlock told her to hail a cab, about to do so when she was suddenly grabbed from behind. The sudden motion caught her off guard, a gasp escaping her lips as she felt something wrap around her throat. Her mind went blank as she instinctively grabbed at the object strangling her, helplessly tugging on it.

Her air was cut off and black spots dotted her vision as a single thought slipped through her mind. I'm not ready to die. I'm not ready to die. It surprised her considering she had been so sure she had been signing her own death certificate less than a week ago and yet had accepted her fate without struggle. But now, here she was, actually having the life taken out of her, and she found that she wasn't prepared.

Desperately, she slammed her heel into the attackers foot as she was taught in self defense, but all that it accomplished was that the heel of the poorly made shoe snapped off. Knowing that she lacked the ability to overpower the killer, she cried out weakly, "Sherlock!"

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(A/N): We love ourselves some jealous Sherlock! And it looks like they found their serial killer, now the question is if John and Sherlock will be able to get there in time! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!