Hey guys, this is a new story, the beginning scene was stuck in my head for a few days so I thought what the hell lets see where it goes. I also listened to Know your enemy by green day while writing this. Review for suggestions and let me know what you think! Enjoy!
What the Hell?
The day began as any other. People were up and about or passed out on couches or doing whatever they do. Lestrade sat in his office, paperwork galore. He sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. Things had calmed down a bit since Sherlock came back.
Sherlock was in his flat, John had stopped by for a bit and they had gotten a call. Sherlock was intrigued by the new case and warranted it interesting enough to leave the flat. Several boxes had been delivered to Scotland Yard and had been filled with human remains. There was a possibility it was more than one person.
"I hope you did not have plans for today." Sherlock said as they were walking out of the flat. He didn't actually care if John had plans. "It seems this case may take some running around. We will have to stop by St. Barts as well." John followed along. Luckily, he didn't really have much to do until the evening. Unless he got called in to work. Sherlock kept on about the case until they exited the flat.
"Perhaps on our way home we could stop by a Tesco's, stock up your fridge for after the case." John suggested. Sherlock only hummed. He walked to the edge of the sidewalk and hailed a cab. John never understood how he was able to do that. Maybe all the cabbies knew him. It wouldn't surprise him. Very little surprised John unless it ran into him or at him.
John walked towards the cab and slid in first, Sherlock was holding the door open for him. As Sherlock was sliding into the cab, and shutting the door, a blur of a person shoved him sideways into John and jumped into the cab with them and shut the door. Shouts from john and the cabbie showed their lack of appreciation at the stunt. Sherlock let out an oof.
"Drive! Green Street first, then wherever these guys were going!" The small woman had said as she shut the door.
"Oi! What do you think you're doin'? Get yer own cab!" The driver yelled and turned to face her. He was met with a small black gun held in steady hands that rested on the passenger seat and a cold hard gaze form the woman.
"Green Street. Now!" She practically yelled. He nodded and began to drive.
The men barely had time to register what was going. She had pulled the gun so quickly neither had time to react and sat still as statues, not wanting her to shoot the cabbie. They took in her appearance. She looked like one of those grunge kids. Short black choppy hair, piercings in her lip and nose. Several piercings on the ear. No make up. She wore heavy boots, baggy green pants, heavy black coat and some band tee. She had bags under her eyes indicating lack of sleep. She was thin and her cheeks were a bit sunken in, she must not have eaten in a while.
Sherlock and John exchanged looks as the cabbie pulled away from the curb.
"Thank you!" She almost yelled. Switching the safety on she tossed the gun to John and Sherlock. Their eyebrows shot up. "Here hold this." She ordered. John took the gun and set to removing the bullets from it. Sherlock watched as she pulled a small back pack from the floor. It was black and worn leather. She opened it up and kicked off her boots. His eyebrows furrowed. She only had a few minutes until Green street.
She began to undress.
First was her hair. She removed the wig and long brown hair was shaken about her shoulders. After taking off her socks she pulled out a black pencil skirt and yanked it over her green pants with difficulty.
"What the hell are you doing?!" John asked. She looked at him as she wiggled out of the pants. "I'm changing. What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Her tone was rushed and agitated. She began shaking off her jacket and tossed it onto Sherlock's lap. He frowned and pushed it onto the floor.
The boys watched as she took out the piercing from her head carefully and threw them in a pocket of the bag.
"SO where are you two boys headed?" She asked. John's mouth flapped open and shut, trying to figure out what was going on and Sherlock stared at her. "Scotland Yard." He stated simply. She raised her eyebrows at them and pulled out a white button up work shirt. She set it on her lap.
"Hu, you two don't look like cops." She said and began shimmying out of her band tee. It was difficult in the cab. There was a long sleeved shirt underneath that was going to be an even bigger pain.
"We aren't cops." Was all John could mutter as she removed her tee.
"Hu." Was all she said and she looked forward, thoughtful look on her face. She seemed to actually be trying to think of what they are. "What are you then?" She asked as she shoved the tee into the bag. She grabbed the jacket from the floor too.
John was about to answer but Sherlock stopped him. "Don't answer her, John." He said sternly. The woman shot him a questioning glance but shrugged her shoulders. Her arms crossed and her hands grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off in one swift motion, revealing exposed skin and a simple black bra.
John's mouth fell open. He was at a loss for wards.
"Almost there, Ma'am." The cabbie informed her and she mumbled and expletive.
She threw on the shirt and buttoned it up. Looking down she scowled but continued to button up the shirt. "I should have worn a camisole." She mumbled.
"John, close your mouth." Sherlock stated and John did but his mouth fell open again. The two watched her, both at a loss for words. Sherlock was studying her, learning her. He wasn't getting much and some things he was getting ended up wrong.
The woman pulled out a tube of lipstick, mascara and pencil eyeliner. Her phone rang and she picked it up.
"What? I'm working?" She said into the phone. They heard her one-sided conversation.
"Yeah, I'm on my way now. No. No, shut up. Look, I am doing the best I can, it's not like this was planned. I don't care, I should at least try. Hey, I got this. Now go away I'll be in later." She hung up. Sherlock didn't get much from it, but he heard her accent slip from British, to American to Swedish. She knew a few languages and spent some time abroad.
She used her phone as a mirror. She tried to do the eyeliner one handed but shook her head.
Turning to Sherlock she grabbed his hands and had him hold the phone for her. He opened his mouth to object but she shushed him. The eyeliner was done quickly and she took the phone back. She threw on mascara and threw the eye makeup back in the bag.
As they pulled onto the street the cabbie asked her which number.
"Just go to the end of the street." She instructed. She began shoving things into her bag, the phone in her lap, lipstick held by her mouth. She pulled out a pair of black stiletto heels and a black blazer.
"You two are going to NSY. Please take this bag in for me. Give it to Detective inspector Lestrade." She said as she put on red lipstick. She tossed the tube into her bag, ran a hand through her hair a few times and turned to the shocked men. As she placed on her shoes she asked "How do I look?"
The men stared at her. Her eyes were wide and eyebrows raised, no smile or smirk.
"Different."
"Nice." John offered.
She smiled at both of their responses and turned to get out. She pulled a fifty out of her blazer pocket and tossed it to the cabbie. "Pay for their trip too."
Opening the door she turned back to the two men. "Thanks for the lift. And how different do I look?"
"Like a completely different person." John mumbled. She smirked. "That's the idea. Gun." She ordered. John numbly handed over her gun. She thanked them again and got out, tucking the gun into a pocket of the blazer swiftly as she threw the blazer on.
They watched as she walked away and into a building of offices.
The cab drove away and the two sat in silence.
"DO you really think we should have left her at the building with a gun?" John asked, breaking the silence. Sherlock hummed. "Won't be a problem. You have her bullets." John cursed and pulled them out of his pocket. "Should we return them?"
"No."
"Who was she Sherlock?" John asked. He was met with silence. Sherlock looked out the window, trying to find an answer.
"I have no idea." Was his quiet reply. John looked at his best friend in shock. When Sherlock looked to John he rolled his eyes and figured he should explain.
"When she first entered the cab she appeared to be in her late teens-early twenties. She had a history of some drug abuse, no sleep and little food. Most likely had a poor child hood, abusive father. She was an alcoholic. Her clothes showed she had little respect for authority and conformity. Little paying job." He looked at John. He could see the gears turning in John's head.
"The way she held the gun shows she is very comfortable with them and familiar. Either she is a criminal or a government worker. When she changed into business clothes, she was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties who had her own business. Her posture improved and she showed more confidence. No sign of being an alcoholic. She smokes however. You can smell it on her items." He held the bag for John to smell. There was a definite scent of cigarette smoke.
"The tell for the alcohol was with her trembling hands. As she pulled the gun, it left her hands. She didn't smell like smoke until she changed. The business woman who left had enough confidence and she felt she was in control, which is why she gave you her gun. She showed no signs of abuse or poor child hood. With her demeanor and mannerisms changing, she also let go of those indicating drug abuse."
"So, she literally changed personalities and histories just by changing clothes and putting on make up?" John inquired. Sherlock hummed. He was confused and wasn't happy about not knowing what she was.
They sat in silence and the cabbie pulled up to NSY. They got out and went to see Lestrade. On their way in, an irked Donavan ran past, brushing into Sherlock as she passed. "Move, Freak!" They watched her run off with raised eyebrows. The day was proving to be an odd one.
Liz Walker sat on the sidewalk, slowly smoking a cigarette, waiting for her ride. She had a small cut on her head near her hair line that was leaving a small trail of blood down the side of her face, her opposing cheek had a bruise and to top it off, she got shot. The bullet grazed the top of her shoulder. It was staining her shirt. But she didn't care. She sat there, barefoot, bleeding and hungry, waiting for this Sally Donavan to pick her up. Liz threw her now messy, tangled hair into a bun. Tendrils of her hair escaped the bun and made it look more like a pony tail.
She looked like shit.
She felt like shit.
A car pulled up and a woman in a suit, dark skin and kinky curly hair stepped out. The woman marched over to Liz. Liz watched as the woman, with a scowl on her face planted herself in front of Liz. Liz looked up, eyebrows raising up to her hairline.
"Donavan?" Liz asked. The woman nodded. "Yep. Get up, it's time to go." She ordered and turned back to the car. Liz sighed and got up on her own time and meandered over to the car, trying to irk the Donovan woman. It worked.
"Hurry up." Liz gave her the finger and a small smile. Donavan got in the car and started it up. Liz opened the door and climbed in. Once she got settled, a few tissues were tossed at her. She looked curiously at Donovan. "Don't bleed all over the car." Oh she was going to make sure there was blood on the car.
Something about Donovan got under her skin.
It wasn't long until the two were arguing. Liz was livid by the time she arrived at Lestrade's office.
Sherlock and John were just about to leave Lestrade when Donovan walked out of the elevator with a smirk of triumph. Sherlock could not have that.
"Did you get some time with another married man?" He asked her. Donavan's smile left and she sat down at her desk. Their attention went to the woman emerging from the stair well. It was the same woman from the cab!
"You little shit!" She spat at John. She realized he took the bullets when she tried to shoot. Pointing a finger at the two she ordered "You two stay here, I want my bullets back." And she stomped to the office area, Sherlock and John on her tail. John was about to speak to her when Liz took her blazer (that now held some blood) and slammed it on Donovan's desk, knocking files and papers all over the desk and floor, some now covered in blood. Sherlock smirked at the detective's reaction.
"For a cop, you get pretty squeamish with blood!" She yelled and stomped away. "LESTRADE! Where the hell is your sorry ass?" She yelled.
"Liz. Please stop yelling." Lestrade asked and approached her. She wasn't having any of it though. She marched at him, causing him to walk backwards.
"NO! I am hear my first day, trying to finish up an assignment, my last one mind you, before I head over here. You call me in the middle of it because of some bloody case that can wait until I got here! That call blew everything! Months of hard work out the window!" She flung a pile of cases off the desk that was hers as they walked past it.
"I had to change on the run! In a cab with those two!" She waved her hands over Sherlock and John. Lestrade looked past her t them with pleading eyes. John stepped up.
"Miss, I don't think-" She rounded on him.
"You don't even get to start!" She yelled and turned her attention back to Lestrade.
"Because of the cab ride, the short one was able to take my bullets! And how useful is a gun with no bullets?" She yelled and backed Lestrade into his office. Sherlock and John followed, John had enough sense to close the door.
"Look, it's over for now, what do you want me to do about it? I hadn't realized you were working." Lestrade argued, stepping forward.
Liz pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Sorry." She muttered. She lifted her head up to glare at Lestrade again. "I'm tired, Greg. I have been running on caffeinated drinks for the past few weeks! Look, my hands are shaking! I haven't eaten in weeks, I haven't slept really since I have started this job a few months ago, I'm bleeding, I have been shot, lost everything I have spent the past few months on, probably have a target on my head and quite frankly, if you give me my bullets, you are going to have to arrest me! I am so close to breaking and shooting Sargent Donovan in the head and you know wh-" her rant was cut off when a crème filled donut was shoved in her mouth. John jumped at the sudden action and his eyes widened in amusement at her reaction. She took a bite and slowly pulled it from her mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed at Lestrade and she slowly chewed the doughnut. She nodded at Lestrade and plopped into one of the chairs.
"Thanks." she took another bite and turned to look at the two men who have remained silent.
"Who the fuck are you guys?" She asked and took another large bit of the pastry.
John's head was reeling. This woman went through so many characters in such a short span of time and now she was asking who they were. Sherlock voiced John's thoughts.
"I believe the better question is : who are you?" Sherlock said stepping forward. She pushed the food to the side of her mouth and answered. "I'm the freaking devil."
Lestrade smacked her on the back of the head. She let out an ow and Lestrade filled them in.
"Guys, this is Liz Walker. She is an agent from the British government and is a good friend of mine. She has been transferred here to help with special cases, so I believe you three will be working together a lot." Liz grimaced and slouched in her chair. "Liz, grow up and play nice."
She bit her doughnut angrily. She looked like a pouting child. Lestrade sighed.
"Sorry, guys. She has a history of not playing nice."
"I do just fine when someone doesn't take my bullets." She glared at John. John argued back.
"I'm sorry but I didn't want to risk you shooting us! You aimed it at the cabbie for Christ's sake!" John didn't like being accused.
"You aimed your gun at a cabbie?" Lestrade asked, astounded.
"Oh, she threatened him." Sherlock offered with a smirk. Greg looked incredulously at Liz who snapped at Sherlock. "Shut up lanky, I didn't threaten him." She brought her feet up onto the chair and met his smirk with a glare.
Lestrade was wondering if this was a good idea.