"Do I have a use now?" I spat as the door clicked open behind me.
"As a matter of fact you do," The English accent told me that it was him again. I stood up and waited patiently as three guards walked in; their guns loaded and pointed them at me.
"Two PDW's and an old styled AK-47. Different to the normal guns you have pointed at me Mycroft," I said glancing over my shoulder at the immaculately dressed man behind me.
"Yes. Well, you are needed in a court of law today. I do hope you still remember all of the laws and rules for being an attorney," Mycroft said sardonically and I could feel the hate-filled smirk to go with it. Two scientists faltered into the room and began hesitantly undoing the strafe jacket binding my arms to my body. As soon as they finished, they left quickly with Mycroft closing the door behind him as, he too, left the room. I looked at the small single bed on the far side of the room to see that a black pencil skirt and matching jacket were left with a white blouse.
"He wasn't kidding. Smug bastard," I said to the guards, knowing that they wouldn't be talking to me. I pulled the white pants off of my legs, staring at the hairless white skin underneath. For a quick moment, I pondered the full extent of my 'condition' before pulling on the skirt and throwing away the thoughts. I opened the buttons on the blouse before pulling on the shirt, buttoning it back up with the jacket just hanging over my shoulder.
"Do you think anyone would care if I happened to kill someone?" I asked the guards rhetorically. I laughed to myself when they all tensed and aimed their weapons a little higher as I tucked the blouse into the skirt, and strutted over to the door where I waited patiently, able to hear the guards getting a little closer.
"Don't worry. I won't kill all three of you. That's just too messy," I whispered, turning to face them momentarily with a sadistic smirk before turning back to the door as it began to open. One of the guards pushed his gun into my back and I began to stalk forwards. Being allowed out of my room was not a common occurrence.
"Who is she?" I looked at the new voice and saw someone whom I read about when reading Mycroft's file. Black curly hair, striking blue eyes...definitely familiar.
"Aveline. Ava for short." I said holding out my hands. "You must be William Holmes. Wait, no. That's not what you go by, is it? You go by Sherlock. Just as Mycroft doesn't go by Alexander." I explained and as the scientists next to me, handcuffed my hands in front of me and when they were attaching a bunch of wires to my body I whispered to them. "Men honestly,"
"Your name was never Aveline," Mycroft began but I glared at him, cutting him off.
"It was after you fucking experimented on me that my name changed you, pompous hypocrite. Which reminds me, good job. You gave me an eidetic memory, super strength, super speed, a highly advanced intelligence and just to be sure that I am better at everything than any normal human being. Great job," I snapped.
"Come on. If she is really as good as you say, then let's finally put Moriarty behind bars." Sherlock grunted before storming out of another door with a shorter man in tow. I pulled up my mental file on Sherlock and read everything about him.
"John Hamish Watson," I stated wistfully out loud in an 'ah' kind of way.
"What did you say?" John asked turning around, tense with my words, I could see his hand reaching for a small bulge in his jacket and the shape of it alone told me it was his original military issued handgun.
"Nothing really. You're an army doctor with a shoulder wound and had a psychosomatic limp. Until Sherlock Holmes came along that is. Eating disorder due to PTSD, same old, same old. Do you still miss the war, Doctor Watson?" I asked walking past the shorter man and out onto the street with my 'body' guards still pointing guns at me and a smirk plastered on my face.