(Note: Alexandra is not my creation. I "met" her on Omegle, but I don't know the name of her creator, so I can't credit them. But thank you, whoever you are.)
Two Holmes
Sherlock woke with a start, the scream still ringing in his ears. He was in his bed, and the voice that had startled him awake was most definitely John's. Grabbing his robe, he headed for the door. He scanned the apartment, quickly locating the bathroom at the only source of light. The door was ajar. He rushed to it and then stopped dead.
John was lying on his back on the floor. Straddled across his chest was a lanky young woman with shoulder length, very wet dirty blond hair. Her clothes were soaking wet and she had a heavy handgun aimed right between John's eyes. John whimpered.
Sherlock suppressed a laugh.
"John," he announced. "Meet my cousin, Alexandra Holmes!"
After John had been calmed down, Alexandra had changed into dry clothes and Sherlock had made an exception, making them all a cup of tea, they settled down in the living room, John and Sherlock in the chairs, Alexandra on the couch, the sleeping bag bundled up to support her back.
"So what exactly were you doing in the bathtub fully clothed?" John asked.
Alexandra chuckled.
Sherlock explained. "Alexandra suffers from night terrors. Has done ever since she was a baby. Best way to calm her down is a cold bath. Guess she didn't want to take the time to undress." Sherlock gave her a crooked smile.
"Good thing for John too," she said, scowling over the rim of her cup. "Or I would have had to shoot him."
John gulped, his eyes shifting nervously between the two. Sherlock laughed and then tossed a pillow at Alexandra.
"Behave," he ordered. "John has just had quite a shock. It can be a very trying ordeal coming home from a bad date, to be nearly assassinated in your own bathroom by a strange psychotic woman."
"Am not," Alexandra stuck her tongue out at Sherlock.
"Then don't behave like one," Sherlock retorted.
John just looked lost. "How did you know the date was... Never mind."
He sipped his tea.
"What's she doing here?"
Sherlock explained: "Alexandra has business in London this weekend, and needed a place to stay, so naturally I offered her our couch."
"You offered me John's room," Alexandra added, smiling wickedly at her cousin. "Luckily, I was raised better."
Sherlock scoffed.
"Alexandra and I practically grew up together," he explained.
"Yes, Sherlock was the big brother I never had. And Mycroft was the old grumpy uncle."
They both snickered. It struck John how very similar they were.
"But she's been abroad for the better part of a decade," Sherlock continued. "So I only get to see her on the odd occasion when her... business, takes her to London."
"What has it been," Alexandra asked. "Two years?"
"Two and a half."
"Oh. I thought I noticed you turning a bit grey."
A look of shock on his face, Sherlock's hand shot to his perfectly brown curls. Then he saw the glint in her eye and reached for the pillow, before realising he had already tossed it at her once.
"So," John ventured. "What exactly is your business?"
Alexandra smiled, almost modestly. "I'm a spy."
John sputtered. "A spy?"
"Yes," Sherlock sounded mildly annoyed. "Mycroft's doing."
"You see," Alexandra explained. "I was only 14 when my parents died, and didn't quite know what to do. Mycroft was crafting his place in … society, at the time, and he got me in touch with some recruiters, looking for young talent."
"So, do you work for Mycroft?" John asked.
"As often as not." Alexandra sipped her tea, finding it too cold and depositing the cup on the table. "When I can stand him."
At this, Sherlock chuckled.
"Well, Alexandra," John got to his feet. "It's been very nice meeting you, and I hope to get to know you better, before you leave. But I've had a very long day, and need to get to bed."
He gave her a kind of small bow, before making his way to the stairs.
"Goodnight John," Sherlock called after him.
John had been very patient, but after three hours of being taunted about the bathroom incident and listening to the two cousins reminiscing and bickering, he had had enough.
"I'm gonna go to the shop," he announced, getting up. "Can I get you anything?"
"Yes, some C4 would be nice. And detonators please," Alexandra flashed him a winning smile.
"A new harpoon," Sherlock offered.
"Garrotting wire," Alexandra suggested.
"And some cigarettes," Sherlock called at John's back, as he stormed down the stairs.
"Not on your life," was John's only reply before slamming the door.
Having caught up on everything that had happened since last they met, Alexandra had settled down to clean her guns. This was an almost meditative thing for her, and Sherlock knew not to talk to her.
Sherlock was, however, not dealing very well with silence, and was soon climbing the walls with boredom.
"Sherlock dear," Alexandra purred.
He stopped in his tracks, looking at her expectantly.
"If you don't stop pacing, I'm gonna tackle and hogtie you."
Sherlock glared at her, and then flopped down on the couch. He dug out a small rubber ball from between the cushions, regarded it with a puzzled look, and then started bouncing it against the wall, letting it hit the floor before catching it.
Bonk-thud, bonk-thud, bonk-thud.
Alexandra sighed exasperated and tried concentrating on the job at hand.
Bonk-thud, bonk-thud, bonk-thud.
She stared at her cousin through narrowed eyes, her fingers tapping the handle of the gun she had just put back together. "Sherlock... Are you going to stop throwing the ball at the wall or am I going to have to shoot you?" she said in a sickly sweet tone.
Sherlock looked at her for a long time. Then he, very deliberately, threw the ball at the wall.
Alexandra forced a sigh and closed her eyes. She had trained in Russia, she was a very accomplished spy. But her annoying cousin was really testing her patience. "Sherlock," she sang.
"Yes dear," he copied her voice almost perfectly.
"You are like a brother to me, but right now... I will shoot you." she said, keeping the sweet tone.
"Go ahead." He threw the ball again while not taking his eyes off her. "Anything is better than this."
She rolled her eyes and tried focusing on the other, still disassembled weapon. "Well I can't help that! And where's John?" she grumbled. "Shouldn't he be back by now?"
"Who knows." Sherlock put the ball in the pocket of his blue robe and got up. "Can I borrow your gun?"
She held the gun protectively to her. "Why?" she asked, suspicious.
"I'm bored. Shooting stuff helps... A little."
"Maybe I should shoot you. Cures the boredom and the pest," she smiled, propping her legs on the coffee table.
"It might. But it'll make a lot of mess, that YOU are going to have to explain to John."
"I can find John a new play thing. I must have hundreds on the record. And Mrs. Hudson will help me, she is a dear," she said, spinning the gun.
Sherlock did not look intimidated in the least. Instead he went back to the couch and threw himself flat on this back, dramatically. "I'm BOOOOOORED!"
"Well join the club!" she sighed, pulling her gun out and shooting the smiley face. "That doesn't cure anything!" she cried frustrated.
Sherlock looked mildly impressed.
Alexandra crossed her arms and looked at him. "Okay, you're the consulting detective, you must have something to do. I just need to do something. My meeting with Mycroft isn't till tomorrow," she sulked.
Sherlock considered this for a while. "Are you good at finding people?"
"Sherlock. Your princess brother sent me to Russia to train as a spy. Of course I am," she said, quirking an eyebrow.
"I know this very entertaining criminal. Moriarty he calls himself. But he is extremely slippery." Sherlock looked up, hopeful. "And very very dangerous!"
Alexandra's face lit up. She turned to Sherlock. "Ah! Please can we find him! Pretty pleeeease!" she said, the thought of hunting someone down curing boredom.
"Be my guest. I owe him a game or two."
"Sherlock. Laptop," she said, not looking at him as she said it, pushing the assembled weapons aside.
Sherlock grabbed John's laptop, figuring out the new password in the time it took him to bring it to the table.
"Give me some key facts about our home boy," she said, her hands whirring on the keyboard.
"Well, he's supposedly a consulting criminal. He thinks up crimes for people, too stupid to do it themselves. He has a lot of people with guns, who are very good at pointing them at stuff. And he really likes explosives..."
She smirked. "I could get along with this guy." she muttered, her hands dancing on the keypad. "John... Delete your history, it is most disturbing."
Sherlock nodded. "I keep telling him. What's keeping him, anyway?" Sherlock went looking for his phone.
Alexandra shuddered and finally smiled. "Our subject is currently in Domino's pizza... Getting ham and pineapple with a side order of explosives," she said, leaning back.
Sherlock's jaw almost dropped in admiration. He typed a quick text for John, pressed send and headed for the door. "Which Domino's?"
Alexandra jumped up and opened the door for him. "Ladies first. And about three blocks away," she said, donning her leather jacket as she walked.
Sherlock stopped and looked down at his robe and pyjamas... "Ehm... I'll need a moment here."
"You are such a wuss. I had to do a mission in a clown outfit," she huffed, grabbing a handgun and loading it.
Sherlock spend almost 15 minutes in his bedroom before emerging in an immaculate black suit with a purple silk shirt. His hair was still a mess though.
Alexandra was lying on the sofa, throwing the ball against the wall. Sherlock briefly wondered when she had lifted it from his pocket, but decided against pursuing the subject. "You done yet, pretty princess? Or don't your shoes match your shirt?" she smirked.
Sherlock shot her a disdainful look. "Ready?"
"I have been for the past fifteen minutes," she sighed, jumping up, her boots making a soft thud. "And for your vanity, you're paying for the cab," she said, jumping down the steps.
Sherlock shot his coat a wistful glance. It was too hot for it. He grabbed his phone and followed. Finally, something interesting.
Alexandra hailed a cab and got in the back, smirking as Sherlock handed over his card. "So, what's the plan and where's Robin?" she said, thinking of John's whereabouts.
Sherlock checked his phone. "That's odd. He hasn't answered yet."
"Want me to track him down?"
"Nah. He's probably just trying to chat up some woman way out of his league."
She rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers on her ripped jeans. "So... How are we going to do this?" she asked, pulling out a packet of cigarettes.
Sherlock eyed the cigarettes hungrily. "I don't know. Aren't you the expert on this sort of things?"
"Yes, but I usually have a bit more time to plan," she sighed, lighting it. "Only this once, cousin, and don't tell John," she sighed, throwing the packet at him.
Sherlock radiated total bliss as he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, while pocketing the rest of the pack. "Sometimes, I think I love you, you know."
"You should, after the many times I have saved your ass," she smirked. "But it's nice to be home... I missed all of this," she sighed.
"I'm sure it all missed you too." Sherlock was in a world of his own, drifting on happy little clouds of nicotine... "Oh, this is good."
"Oh Jesus, do not go into your mind palace now," she sighed, shaking her head. She saw the cab driver glare at her and she smiled.
Sherlock smiled dreamily. "Oh yeah, we're going to get kicked out now. Didn't you know?"
"Not if I can help it," she smirked. The driver opened his mouth but Alexandra cut him off. "Please, just don't. I am a trained killer and I just bought this jacket, I do not wish to have to buy a new one. And though your consideration for our health is sweet, I'd rather like to die before I'm fifty."
The driver just closed his mouth and carried on driving, confused.
Again, Sherlock looked impressed. "I'm keeping you around, I think."
"You don't have a say in whether I stay or go. But I do relish in the fact that John is slightly scared of me. I didn't mean to try and shoot him though," she sighed.
"It was his own fault. How dares he try to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night," Sherlock actually giggled.
"Sometimes having night terrors is quite fun. The look on his face when he saw me. I'll treasure it forever," she laughed.
"The look on his face when I found the two of you was also priceless I think."
"It was a mix between his best dream and worst nightmare," she smirked.
"Well, he looked like he was going to wet himself, one way or another." Sherlock gave the cabdriver a cheery smile as he glared at them in the mirror.
Alexandra laughed and shot the cab driver a deadly look. "Right, let's go fuck shit up," she said as the cab came to a halt.
Delighted, Sherlock bounced out of the cab looking around, a bright smile on his face, not noticing the three red dots that immediately sought out his chest.
"Oh, let the fun begin!" Alexandra smiled. Then she looked at Sherlock and dashed to him, pushing him out of the way.
A shot barely missed the top of Sherlock's head as they fell to the pavement.
"Get down," Alexandra hissed, rolling behind a bin and pulling out her gun. She sought out a shadow in one of the windows and shot it, watching it go down. In the street, people were screaming and running away.
Sherlock scrambled after her, scanning the street, though the panicked crowd made it hard to make anything out. "There!" he called, pointing at a figure on the roof of a building across the road.
She swiftly pointed up and shot him down. "Next?" she asked.
"I don't know. There should be one more. But I don't see him."
Alexandra scanned the horizon. "Right, I'm going to move out of cover and he'll point at me. Follow the line and shoot," she said, pressing the gun in his hand. "Don't screw up, or I'll come back and haunt the shit out of you."
Sherlock just nodded, accepting the weapon.
She jumped up and walked into the street, and her heart skipped a beat as she felt the sniper on her. "Come on," she muttered.
Sherlock tried to focus. There was the light, meaning the sniper had to be... His phone buzzed. "Shit!" He jerked his hand and the shot missed by a mile.
Alexandra's eyes widened and she turned to face Sherlock, a sudden pain searing her shoulder. She winced and dove behind a parked car.
Sherlock looked up. The sniper had ducked behind the window frame. He dashed out from his cover and raced to Alexandra. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Shut up and let me concentrate," she hissed. She looked at the window, rage burning inside her. "Please tell me it was John who texted you."
Sherlock dug out his phone. It was John's number, but the message said: 'Wanna play?'. "Yes and no..."
"Ah fuck. Moriarty has him, doesn't he?" she muttered.
Sherlock was about to answer as he noticed a smiling Moriarty, John's phone in his hand, waving at them from across the street. He nudged Alexandra and pointed. "Looks like it."
"Fucker!" she snaps, reloading her gun. "Fine, he wants to play," she muttered, standing and firing at the window next to him, the sniper going down. "Then I'll happily participate."
Moriarty grinned happily and disappeared into a waiting car.
Sherlock grabbed Alexandra, pulling her down. "Don't! He'll only hurt John." His voice was strained, his expression painful.
Alexandra nodded and waited for the car to skid around the corner. She stood and smashed a car window, opening it and hot wiring the car. "Get in."
Absentmindedly biting his thumb, Sherlock obeyed. As he got in, his phone buzzed again. 'Thank you for letting me borrow your toy. I'll try not to break it.' He held the phone out to Alexandra, lost for words.
"Don't worry Sherlock. I won't stop until John is back with us," she said softly, skidding around the corner after the other car.
Sherlock blinked three times in quick succession. "He's done it before. He knows it's my weak spot..."
"Well Moriarty doesn't know about me, not yet. For all he knows, you don't have any family connection apart from Mycroft. I'll be a bundle of surprises. You have to distract him," she said, speeding down the road.
"I'll do anything. Just help me fix this." Sherlock fumbled for another cigarette.
"I will," she promised. She saw the car stop in a warehouse and she stopped opposite the street. "Enjoy it while you can. Has Diva sent you anything?" she asked.
Sherlock checked his phone. Nothing."Should I try calling him?"
"Brilliant," she muttered, getting out. "Put yourself in Moriarty's mind. What would he want you to do?" she said, staring at him.
"Last time he sent me clues, giving me deadlines to solve them before he killed people..." He shrugs, defeated. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do..."
"Call him then. He'll love to hear from you," she said, leaning on the car.
John is the first contact in Sherlock's phone. It only rings once before being answered. Sherlock listens, then gasps... "John? John? Are you alright?" He listens for the weak mutterings at the other end, straining to hear. "John, w... I'm coming for you."
Then another voice cuts in, high pitched and sing song: "Hi honey. Glad you could call. Of course you're coming for him. I'm not gonna stand in your way. I'm gonna let you come to him. But only one of you is gonna leave. And I'm gonna let him choose..."
Alexandra kicked the car in frustration. She chewed her lip and looked at the warehouse. "Sherlock... Let's go." she sighed.
Sherlock pulled himself together. "What's the plan?"
"We walk in, and hear what John has to say," she said, looking down.
"Are you sure? It's Moriarty we're dealing with here. If he says only one of us will leave, he means it, and I'm not sure there's anything I can do. Not when it's like this... No need to put you on the line... He's won."
"Sherlock... Both of you are leaving the warehouse. I promised I would fix this, and I don't break promises," she said, facing him. "Now get a grip."
"Alexandra..." Sherlock couldn't look at her. "I'm glad you're here."
"Good," she said, entering the warehouse. "You go alone, I have a plan," she muttered, jumping up the scaffolding and scaling the roof.
Sherlock walked into the warehouse, trying to look calm and in control, but his hands were shaking. At first he couldn't make anything out in the dark, but then he saw him. All the way at the back, lying in a heap on the ground, was John.
Alexandra dipped and dived around, silently taking out Moriarty's guards. She slipped in and waited in the rafters.
Sherlock wanted to run to John, but he knew he must be careful. He walked, slowly, through the gloom towards him. John was not moving.
Alexandra chewed her lip, shifting silently as she looked down at John's lifeless body, willing him to move!
As if sensing her wishes, John stirred. He looked up to see Sherlock. Then he shook his head desperately. "Sherlock," he pleaded. "Get out of here."
Alexandra sighed in relief. Then she saw movement in the doorway and she positioned herself ready.
John was clutching something in his hand. Something metal. With a small blinking light. And then Sherlock saw. Behind John, stacked against the wall, was enough explosives to take out a city block.
Alexandra noticed as well and she felt her heart stop. She saw Moriarty come out into the light, an awful grin on his face.
"Hi," the voice called out behind Sherlock. He whirled around. "I'm sure you figured it out already. Haven't you, honey?" Moriarty asked.
Sherlock looked back towards John, who was still shaking his head. Sherlock sighed and nodded.
"John is holding a dead man's switch. If he lets go, the bomb goes off. It's got a range-trigger as well, so if he goes too far, the bomb goes off. And let me guess, there's also a timer on it, so we only have... what? Five minutes?"
Moriarty grinned. "Four."
Sherlock knew that John would not let him take the trigger. And he knew he couldn't leave John here. Moriarty had indeed won.
Alexandra knew what was going through Sherlock's head. She bit her lip and swiftly jumped down, beside John. "Hi. Alexandra Bethan Holmes. Pleasure to meet you," she said, her voice ringing out throughout the warehouse as she walked towards Moriarty, her hand held out.
Moriarty quickly masked his surprise. "Another Holmes. Delighted I'm sure."
John hissed. "Three minutes Sherlock. You gotta get her out of here."
"We usually come in threes. I am the third Musketeer. But I have a bargain, so don't go jumping the gun."
"A bargain?" Moriarty's look of interest was exaggerated and insincere.
"Don't bother," Sherlock muttered. "He doesn't work that way."
"No no Cousin. I have met men like him. I know exactly what he wants. He wants pain and suffering." she said, her eyes not leaving Moriarty's. "How about you let go John and Sherlock, let them walk away. And you get me. Do what you want, I really don't care. Just let them go."
"Oh, but what I want is Sherlock in pain, and though I can see he is quite attached to you, I know nothing will tear him up quite like his little pet giving his life for him. So you see... sweety. I'm not interested in you."
"Two minutes!" John's voice was almost a scream. "Just get out. Please!"
"I should feel insulted." She gasped, mocking a hurt look. She had achieved what she wanted, getting close enough to strike Moriarty square in the face. She ran to John and looked him in the eye. "Listen to me, get Sherlock and yourself out of here. I'm replacing you," she said, her thumb over his. She slowly slid his thumb aside, her own replacing it, on the trigger.
Sherlock dashed in and pulled John away, though he was fighting desperately to regain possession of the trigger. Sherlock pushed John towards the entrance. "Run," he said. "I'll be right behind you." And for the first few steps he was, but then he ducked towards Moriarty, grabbed the dazed master criminal and started dragging him towards Alexandra. "How long have we got?"
"A minute and a half. Go!" she snapped, kneeling with the device in her hand. This was fine. She hadn't expected to go quite so soon, but she always knew it would end in flames.
Sherlock, knowing her well, but refusing to let her do it, shook his head and pulled Moriarty up, right next to Alexandra. "Got anything we can tie his hand with?" he asked.
Exasperated at Sherlock's heroics, she shook her head. "No. Just leave him here with me, I'll take him sky high," she said. "Go, please Brother!" she cried in desperation, her eyes widening as the words slipped her mouth.
Sherlock took a second to beam at her, before tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt. Then he took Moriarty's hand placing it over Alexandra's. "I'll hold down his thumb, until you've secured it," he said, tossing her the cloth before he moved Moriarty's hand into position, nudging Alexandra's away. "But be quick."
She tied it in a double knot and knocked Moriarty unconscious. "So it doesn't hurt as much," she muttered, standing. "Sherlock, we're running out of time, come on!" she yelled, grabbing his hand and running.
Sherlock sprinted. John was waiting by the door, calling for them to hurry the fuck up!
Alexandra dived behind the wall, just as the explosives went off. She breathed heavily and looked up, the heat making her uncomfortable. Instinctively Sherlock tried to shield John's body with his own. Balled up together on the ground they felt the shock wave, then the heat.
When the roar had died down Alexandra looked around desperately. Then she saw them, a huddled mass, off to her right.
"Sherlock! John!" she screamed out, running to them and helping them up.
They were both gasping. Sherlock's clothes and hair were singed, but they were alright.
"Come on, before the fuzz show up," Alexandra said, helping them both up. Arm in arm the three of them walked to the car. As they got in, John sniffed Sherlock and held out a demanding hand.
Ignoring Sherlock's sheepish look, John returned the cigarettes to Alexandra, shooting her a stern look before breaking into one of his most brilliant smiles. "I'm so glad to have met you."
(This is very different from what I usually write. Please review or pm and let me know if it works or not.)