I forgot the most important part to this story! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! to LollypopGuild! This story would not be possible without her! Plus there will be more to come. No need to fret. It might just take some time.
"Take a look, a little closer. Do you see that door over there, the big red one with the white frame leaning at a slightly more than awkward angle? That's it. That is how you get in," the old haggard whispered to me. His hand was still on my shoulder getting my nice coat filthy with his grimy fingers. Smiling politely, I ducked away from his grasp. Quickly nodding my head, I walked towards the door.
"But be careful! He doesn't like visitors. Especially ones of the female persuasion, dressed in Alexander McQueen." He chuckled and turned away. The man on the street with nothing to his name but a shopping cart and a couple of bags of trash, knew designers. I was truly impressed.
As I reached the door, my hesitation grew. Sometimes, I feel like it would be better if I knew some background on the hit. Yet, the job is the job. Ask questions later. Gently putting my forearm above the doorknob, I pushed at the door hoping that it would give in, but with no surprise it didn't budge. Knocking twice and waiting for someone to answer the door was my next best option. The door opened slightly and a Hispanic man leaned his head out. A cheshire like grin spread across my face and I winked. Pulling slightly on the doorknob I realize that this man wasn't going to let me in. My smile dropped and I went into "red" mode. Grabbing the doorknob, I twisted and pulled the door back . The man unfortunately came with the door. I pulled the man out and thrust my heel into his groin. As he tried to call out for help, I covered his mouth, grabbing for his chin. Feeling the familiar crack of the neck breaking I let him fall limp to the wet pavement.
My gun hitched a little on the inseam pocket of my coat. The barrell of the gun pushed the door open slightly. It had shut almost completley during the skirmish. Even though I was careful to make as little noise as possible, caution was still required. The click of my heels sounded across the black and white tile. Donovan always laughed at me because I would wear my fashion conscious items to a hit. She called my red pumps my "killer heels" because I used them to silence one particularly annoying client. I normally wasn't so boisterous in my style. My home is in my slacks and a warm jumper. But to keep up my identity there has to be a drastic change somewhere. And there was no way I was dying my hair.
Glancing around the corner, I saw the rooms black walls. No windows. Typical for a man high up in the business ladder. Especially SITCO . SITCO was an arms dealer who was easily sold to the highest bidder. Yet surprisingly only two men, heavily armed, stood watch at the door. A sinful smile spread across my face. This shouldn't be too difficult. Hiding my gun behind my back, I put on the sappiest face I could manage.
"Excuse me? I seem to have gotten a little lost. I'm looking for Mycroft Holmes?" With every word I took a step closer. By "Holmes" I had reached the first man. I pulled the gun out from behind my back and wrapped my left arm around the man's neck, hopping up onto his back. As the second man, stupidly, pulled the trigger and shot the man I was on, I quickly shot the shooter. Landing in a crouch over the man, I braced myself for an onslaught of more men. Quickly getting to my feet, I aimed my gun at the door as it opened.
"Hello, Miss Hooper. I have been expecting you." Mycroft Holmes said, twirling his umbrella over one hand. "Are you here to kill me?"
"I think you know the answer to the question, Mr. Holmes." I cocked my gun and aimed it straight at his forehead. As I was about to pull the trigger, another figure appeared. This man was tall with skin like alabaster. His neck stretched on forever and his eyes seemed to be reading into the very depths of my soul. The clear resemblance between the two could only mean one thing. Sherlock Holmes was standing across from me. The great consulting detective was walking my way before I could even register his movements.
His close vicinity had my reflexes being altered. He grabbed me by the wrists and thrust my hands up. Prematurely pulling the trigger, the gun released a silver bullet into the ceiling. I swung my elbow up and made purchase with his mouth. The crack of his teeth caused a shudder to run through my spine. He reached underneath my arm and twisted it back, forcing me to turn around with a cry of agony. Flush against his chest, I could feel my cheeks go up into a flame. I could feel his soft abs from underneath his dress shirt. Stepping in, I crushed my heel down onto his foot. He grunted but did not relinquish me from his hold.
"Your fancy little tricks won't work with me, Molly Hooper." He whispered into my ear. And with that I could feel the sharp sting of a needle entering my neck. The last thing i remembered was strong arms lifting me up as I fell into complete darkness.