Flirting With The Devil
This is my new story. I haven't abandoned my other story, I just have not had much inspiration for it. I have written stuff, but I feel like it isn't really what I wanted. It's a work in progress, but hopefully I'll be able to update that one soon. When I saw some of the Setlock photos from this weekend, I was re-inspired, but for a totally different story. I planned this out on Sunday night and wrote it out yesterday afternoon. I hope you enjoy it!
Takes place after Sherlock reveals that he is in fact alive.
Chapter One: Inspector Adrianna Romano
"Inspector Romano, you're needed on the third floor," a young male police officer said.
"Right. Thank you…?"
"Jones. Sergeant Jones," he filled in.
"Thank you, Sergeant Jones," new detective Adrianna Romano replied, as she walked past him towards the lift. She'd been recently hired by New Scotland Yard to replace a retiree and she still felt like she barely knew who anyone was. Sighing, she stepped into the life and pressed 3. She was a few minutes early to work, steaming latte in hand, and she was already needed. Never a dull moment as of yet.
She thought back to her conversation with Detective Inspector Lestrade a few weeks prior. He'd told her that she'd be working with the great Sherlock Holmes, and she honestly couldn't be happier. Sherlock Holmes was a man she'd looked up to for years. He'd been part of her inspiration to become a detective. And even though he acted like such an obnoxious know-it-all sometimes, he displayed intelligence beyond anyone she'd ever met. When Lestrade had asked her why she was so tan, Adrianna couldn't help but laugh a little. Obviously D.I. Lestrade was not as astute as his favorite detective; if he'd even bothered to thoroughly read her resumé, he'd have known that she'd lived and worked as a private consultant in Florida for 2 years. Living in the Florida sun can do that to you, she'd joked. The fact that she was half Italian didn't hurt either. That wasn't to say that she doubted D.I. Lestrade's intelligence; quite the opposite actually. She knew that he had brains, yet she recognized that he wasn't as attentive to details as Sherlock Holmes was.
And that was why she admired Sherlock Holmes. Because he was like her. Obsessed with every single tiny detail. And he figured out exactly how each of those details fit into place.
The lift dinged, announcing her arrival on level 3, and breaking her from her thoughts. The doors opened, revealing a surprisingly chaotic scene in front of her.
Very unsurprisingly, however, was the fact that Sherlock Holmes was in the center of it all, black overcoat swirling around him.
"…And so of course it was the gardener! Just look at her fingernails!" He dramatically held up a picture of a woman's pink-polished fingernails, all of which were chipped. "A struggle results in chipped nails, you see…"
Even though he continued on his rampage about the poor woman's nails, the other officers seemed to be dealing with a bigger problem. They seemed to be rushing about the room and causing a great deal of noise. The great detective, however, seemed to be taking absolutely no notice whatsoever to any of them.
"…Her hair was a complete mess as well…"
Okay, what is going on here? Adrianna thought. Spotting John Watson and D.I. Lestrade together across the room, Adrianna proceeded in an attempt to weave her way through the mass of people rushing about, Sherlock still ranting all the while.
John and Lestrade both turned towards her as she finally reached them.
"Sir," Adrianna greeted her boss, before turning towards John. "John."
"Inspector Romano," Lestrade greeted her.
"Hello," John replied.
"So, umm…what's going on?" she asked confusedly. She noticed that Lestrade and John didn't seem to be very tense or nervous, like everyone else in the room so clearly was.
"Oh, you know, Sherlock's just deducing things and annoying everyone around him," John answered with quite a lot of sass. Obviously Sherlock had been pissing him off again. (Then again, when didn't Sherlock annoy John.)
"Okay. I sort of gathered that, but why is everyone freaking out?" she said.
"Oh, that," John laughed a little bit. "Apparently the detective commissioner is stopping by 'unannounced.'"
"And you're not nervous about this why?" Adrianna asked, looking at Lestrade.
"Because we've got nothing to worry about. They're acting like it's the end of the world if the detective commissioner shows up," Lestrade responded.
"Good to know that the appearance of the big scary man himself doesn't mean the end of the world," Adrianna joked. He had gotten her the job, but he still scared her in a way that not many people did. He reminded her vaguely of her chemistry professor in her sophomore year at Oxford. He'd been a very crotchety old man who had no patience for anyone who didn't understand the material. And he'd hated her with a passion. Probably because she hadn't understood anything he'd taught. And even though the detective commissioner had heard about her past and had been so impressed that he'd hired her on the spot, she still had this irrational fear of him.
"This oddly reminds me of The Devil Wears Prada," Adrianna realized, making John and Lestrade laugh.
"I think that is the best comparison to him I've ever heard," Lestrade laughed. The commotion had begun to die down, and people were regaining their seats. Sherlock continued to babble to no one in particular.
"Well then…I should probably get to my desk," Adrianna said.
"And this is probably the moment where we should get Sherlock to shut up," John sighed.
"We?" Lestrade countered. Adrianna giggled as Lestrade walked away.
"Will you at least help me?" John asked, turning towards her.
"You're on your own for this one," Adrianna replied, patting his shoulder. "Hang in there, soldier."
It had been a long, annoying day at work that day. What with the detective commissioner's surprise visit to check up on his "best detective" (as in Adrianna) on top of the work she actually had to do, she felt she needed to unwind.
What better way to unwind than to do a little shopping.
Adrianna put on her designer sunglasses as she stepped out into the chilly air. She pulled her jacket closer as she began her trek down the street towards her favorite stores. She was just beginning to regret that she'd worn one of her favorite black dresses, (the formfitting, subtly sexy, yet classy and work appropriate one) because it was so cold, when at last she rounded the final corner to the shops she'd been aiming for. Her black Louboutin pumps clicked on the pavement as she hurried toward the closest row of shops. She paused to peer into the window of the first shop, and upon seeing something in the reflection on the window, she turned and entered the store.
The words Vivienne Westwood blazed upon the wall at the back of the store. Pretending to look at a rack of dresses, she didn't even look up as he approached her.
"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here," Adrianna said, still focused on the rack in front of her.
The man smiled a little, knowing that she was aware of what he was doing even though she still had on her sunglasses and was so expertly avoiding looking at him.
"Well, you know me," he replied softly, his soft Irish accent calm.
"No, I really don't," she retorted, and glanced up at him very briefly for the first time since he'd followed her in. Then she focused her attention on another dress, purely to act like she didn't care.
"Awww c'mon love – " he began.
"What do you want?" Adrianna cut him off, abandoning her attempt to act like she wasn't paying much attention in favor of confronting him directly.
He just smiled. After a brief pause, he said, "I think you know."
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking," she replied, studying his face.
"Or you just want to make me say it," he mused.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Adrianna asked him.
"You know I can't do that."
Adrianna's sunglasses masked her eyes, but he could tell by her body language that she was becoming extremely frustrated.
"You need to leave me alone," she said darkly, taking a threatening step towards him.
"Ooooh, but darling…I really don't want to," he replied playfully, taking a step towards her as well. A sly smile played at his lips.
"I'm not afraid of you," she retorted, ripping off her sunglasses to stare directly into his dark eyes with her own.
"Be careful what you say, my dear. Because you should be."
They just stared each other down for a few moments before Adrianna finally said, "I'm going to ask you one more time. What do you want?"
He moved towards her quite suddenly and before she knew it, he was far too close and had a firm grip on her wrist.
"Stop questioning me and just observe. What can you deduce about me, just by looking at me?" he whispered, his face close to hers.
"You're wearing a Westwood suit…" Adrianna began.
"Obvious," he retorted, squeezing her wrist harder.
"…You aren't afraid to hurt me in a public place…" she trailed off once more.
He just smirked.
"…And I should be afraid."
"But you're not," he filled in for her. Her wide eyes glanced away from his stare for a split second, but it was enough for him to see right through her lie. "Stupid, stupid girl. You've missed everything important."
She was speechless.
But his mood changed as quickly as it had come about. His hand suddenly let go of her wrist and moved instead to her waist. He pulled her close enough that their bodies were touching, his lips at her ear.
"If you really want to know, meet me at Barrafina tonight at 7," he whispered into her ear, voice suddenly calm. His warm breath tickled her ear and made her shiver. Feeling the reaction she had, he smirked over her shoulder.
"Mmmm…I know you're curious," he continued, his hand beginning to roam. "I'll be seeing you later, love."
And with that, he pulled away as quickly as he'd approached her and casually strolled out of the store.
Adrianna exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding until that moment. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checked the time: 5:17. She had just over an hour and a half. She shakily put her sunglasses back on and began walking once more. The temperature felt as though it had dropped dramatically since she'd been in the store.
Reaching into her pocket for her gloves, she felt something that definitely hadn't been there before.
It was a business card. And all it said was:
Jim Moriarty
Consulting Criminal
I hope you all enjoyed this!
By the way, Moriarty commented on my other story: "Update soon or else." What a motivating statement. Thanks, Moriarty.