Sherlock sat in his hotel room, with his head in his hands. What was he going to do? He had no life anymore, he was no longer Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes was a fake, a fraud, and dead.
He couldn't think straight. One thing he knew was that he couldn't stay in London. Too many risks, too many memories. Too many temptations to walk back into that flat and greet John like nothing had happened. There was only one alternative, one option left.
He had to go back to Riley.
The taxi ride was long and unnerving. He knew, if anyone saw him, his whole cover would be blown. And all hell would break loose. He hired an out-of-town cabbie and made sure his face was hidden most of the time. Sherlock stepped out into the cold, familiar air and paid the man, watching the taxi drive off right until it disappeared on the horizon.
Sherlock remembered the house well. The sea breeze caught in his throat as he knocked hard on the door.
"Sherlock."
He spun around to face the voice behind him. Standing there, a girl, quite tall, with short black hair and a pale beige trench coat, belted tight around her waist and a big collar. Her eyes sparkled dark brown.
The corner of Sherlocks mouth twitched upwards as he saw the familiar face. The quirky smile, the intelligent gaze. "Riley."
"Its been a while."
Sherlock stirred his tea slowly, looking over the cup rim at Riley. She sat, fingers in a steeple, looking amused.
"You're looking good...for A dead man."
"I mosturise."
"I seem to have missed out on quite a bit." Riley smirked, and leant forward. "Mor-i-ar-ty." She mouthed.
Sherlock placed his cup on the table. "You have missed out on quite a lot."
The clock ticked over the silence. But there was conversation going on. The pair had spoke like this, a long while back - Sherlock raising his eyebrow, Riley cocking her head to the side and Sherlock nodding slightly. A silent conversation, from which they could get every piece of information they needed. Riley stared into his eyes. Sherlock stared back. He knew Rileys particular skill well - 'the eyes, its all in the eyes' she had told him once. Long, long ago...Riley rolled her head sideways and leant back in her chair.
"I pity John." She said. Riley had found out everything just from that conversation. Although Sherlock knew there was no way she could of found out his companions name from that. She's been watching me.
"Not something I want to talk about." Sherlock quipped.
Riley inclined her head. "So...its Been ten years."
"You've been rather quiet in those ten years." Sherlock noted.
Riley smiled. "Quietly working in the background, you know me."
"Like a spider..." Sherlock mumbled. "In the middle of a web."
Riley raised an eyebrow. Sherlock looked back shrewdly. The clock ticked.
"Why are you back, Sherlock. After all this time...why?"
Sherlock traced the ring of his cup with his long, fluid fingers. "I have no-where else to go."
"We've changed."
"I know."
"This can't be what it used to be."
"I know."
"Then why come back?"
"I don't know."
Silence for a moment. Sherlock could hear her regulated breathing, the wet sound of her tongue sliding over her lips. "You have nowhere else to go."
"Obviously." Sherlock drew out the syllables, to make him sound superior. But in his mind he knew he needed Riley.
She looked into his eyes and blinked softly. He tried to prevent showing her anything through his eyes. But her stare was hypnotising.
"...I could kill you. Right now. And nobody would know. Except me."
"What's the point of killing a dead man?" Sherlock countered.
"Severing old bonds, perhaps." Riley said menacingly.
Sherlocks eyes narrowed. Tick, toc. Tick, tock. "You really are insane."
"Your the best person to know that, Sherlock." Riley leant forward. "After all we've been through, you..should..know."
"What we were, before, is the past."
"Then why come here?"
"I told you, I have nowhere to go."
"Then you should have stayed nowhere. I'd have thought you would have preferred that to me."
"You thought wrong."
"You were the one to walk out, Sherlock."
"There was nothing to walk out from!" Sherlock sprang up, closely followed by Riley.
"Don't bullshit me!"
"Riley." Sherlock attempted to tower over her and got very close to her face. It was only then he realized the sweet symmetry of her eyes, the beauty of her quick wit and memories of her flooded back. He was so close he could see the sticky strings of color in her irises - dark brown with flashes and speckles of green. The tiny microscopic fibers that branched into her pupils fascinated him so much he forgot what he was going to say.
Sherlock lifted his hand to her face and parted a bit of her hair away from her face, nipping his hand away quickly. Riley looked up to him and her brow furrowed. Then Sherlock whispered-
"I don't know what to do, Riley."