Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, or any of the other recognizable characters.
Why weren't some people shocked by Moriarty's appearance on all of the screens? This is the tale on how Moriarty already made it known to some that he was alive. It all started with Sherlock's name on a list. Sherlock x OC.
A List
Prologue - The Enigma
0900 - London
Mycroft Holmes glanced at the fashionably dressed American woman riding in the car with him. "You have two weeks." he reminded her.
"I know." Alexandrea said softly as she continued to look out the window.
"While you are recuperating, I think it would be best for you to remain elusive to my younger brother - make him try to guess." Mycroft gave her a small smile.
She looked at him skeptically, "Are you serious? I doubt it would take more than a few minutes for Sherlock Homes to deduce who I am and what I do for a living." Really, was Mycroft losing faith in his brother's abilities? She shook her head slowly and looked back out the window.
"I think it will sharpen his skills, and it will get you back into practice." Mycroft stated. "Stop the car here." he instructed the driver. Mycroft watched the younger woman carefully, then handed her a black credit card with no name and a new mobile phone. "You have worked very well with us, Alexandrea and we appreciate it immensely. Take this time to relax and come back ready to work in two weeks. Get rid of the clothes you have on, buy all you need from in there." he pointed to the high class Nadine's Second Best Clothiers. "I will make arrangements for you with Ms. Hudson. Go to 221 Baker Street when you have finished your shopping."
Alexandrea smiled softly. Though Mycroft Holmes was the embodiment of the British Government itself and many people felt intimidated by him, she had worked with him enough to know he was just very passionate about keeping his country safe. "Thank you, Mycroft. I'll see you in two weeks." The door was opened for her and she got out of the car gracefully.
XXXXX
1230 - 221B Baker Street
Mycroft Holmes looked at his brother with a withered frowned, "I've asked for your help."
"I said no." Sherlock reiterated as he pulled the newspaper up higher.
"You've just re-emerged from your so-called death, you don't have any other cases." Mycroft pointed out as he tapped his umbrella against the floor. "It would be best for you to do something for the country."
Sherlock stood up quickly, "I just spent an inordinate amount of time tracking down all of Moriarty's underlings and we found the bombs that were going to blow up Parliament. There's a delightful article in today's paper, right after the idiotic and pedantic one about Double O7 thwarting another megalomaniac from causing the world to self destruct."
Mycroft sighed heavily, "Really, Sherlock - must you be so melodramatic?"
John Watson looked up from his paper, "How does he do it - stop the megalomaniacs? Does he work alone?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Of course not! He's got MI6 at his disposal and Q with all of his gadgets. Traipses all over the world. . ." he continued to mutter for another minute. He looked back up at Mycroft, "Why are you here again?"
Mycroft was about to blow a gasket, but John quickly stepped in between the two.
"Mycroft, why don't you leave the file with us. We'll get back to you." John Watson smiled politely and accepted the file from him and showed the eldest of the Holmes brothers out the door.
Sherlock frowned at his flat mate and friend, "Why did you take that file from him?"
John shrugged and put the file on the desk, "Seems interesting - maybe you'll feel like looking it over later." He went to the kitchen, "Tea?"
"Fine." Sherlock huffed and sat back down at the desk. He glanced and made sure that John wasn't watching, then opened the case file.
John smiled to himself as he put the pot on. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, "Ms. Hudson, is that you?" he called out.
Ms. Hudson smiled brightly as she stepped in the kitchen, "Yes, dear. Just wanted to introduce you to the new tenant."
John put a smile on his face, but he was almost afraid of what was to come in the next few minutes. They'd had a few people come by and try to rent out 221C, but Sherlock managed to scare them all away within five minutes after he deduced them. What John did not expect, was the woman that followed Ms. Hudson into the small kitchen. She was five feet, six inches. Light brown hair that gently fell down to her shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes - pleasant to look at. Couldn't be over thirty-three years old, looked to be in very good shape from his point of view. She was dressed casually in a pair of low riding jeans, a green silk shirt tucked into the aforementioned jeans, and canvas walking shoes.
John smiled brightly, "Hello, I'm John Watson."
The woman smiled easily and shook his hand, "Hi, I'm Alexandrea Machleeon. I've heard many good things about you, Dr. Watson."
John raised an eyebrow at her accent, "Ah, an American. That's an interesting name." he commented as the pot started to whistle. "Would you care for some tea, Alexandrea? Ms. Hudson?" he offered.
"That would be nice. Please, call me Alex." she suggested.
John looked at Ms. Hudson.
Their landlord looked hesitant to accept the offer. She too, knew that Sherlock would more than likely be upset. She turned to Alex, "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you when you talk to him? He can be overbearing and downright cutting." she reminded the younger woman of their earlier conversation downstairs when they were getting acquainted.
Alex smiled and patted Ms. Hudson's arm, "I'll be just fine. I'll come down and get to work on the sketches in just a little while." she promised.
Ms. Hudson smiled gently, then quickly went back downstairs.
John handed Alex a cup of tea, then carried his and Sherlock's cups into the other room and indicated for Alex to follow him. John set Sherlock's cup of tea on the table and cleared his throat. "We have a visitor."
"I heard, I'm not deaf. What did Ms. Hudson mean when she said I could be downright cutting?" he questioned John as he shut the file.
Alex smiled as Sherlock finally looked over to her, "I believe she means that you have a way of stabbing people in the heart with your words."
Sherlock stood up and circled the American, studying her closely. "Just arrived?" he questioned.
"Possibly."
Sherlock reached for her left hand and looked over the perfectly applied red nail polish, "Couldn't have been today, you just had a manicure and probably a pedicure."
Alex shrugged.
Sherlock looked over her clothes. Jeans, not new - but only worn four times. Evidence at the waist band suggested an excessive weight gain, but her body didn't give credence to that. He looked over her green silk shirt, it had only been worn three times before and the sleeve indicated a left-handed person, but she clearly wasn't.
"Confused?" she questioned and took a sip of her tea. "I took the liberty of getting all of my clothes from Nadine's Second Best a few hours ago. None of these clothes are my own."
"Why would you do that?" Sherlock blinked.
Alex smiled again, "Because I know how you are, Mr. Holmes."
"Where's your passport?"
"Safe - not here." she took another sip of tea.
"You are supposed to carry your passport with you." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yes, well. Mycroft thought it would be best if he held it for me."
Sherlock took in a deep breath and was about to yell for Ms. Hudson, but Alex lifted her hand up to stop him. He stepped back. Was this woman telling him what to do?
Alex noted John seemed to be enjoying Sherlock's confusion. She looked back at Sherlock, "What can you deduce about me?"
"You're physically fit, self-assured to a fault, cunning, and have a poor choice of friends." Sherlock quickly listed.
John had never seen anyone stump Sherlock before, well except Irene Adler when she presented her naked self to Sherlock. John had to smile, this was a bit more elusive - getting clothes from a second hand shop.
"Why do you not want anyone to move in?" Alex questioned Sherlock and stepped into his personal space.
"You'd bother me - I work at all hours." he said simply, not moving - though he felt the urge to take a step back.
"How would I bother you? Do you know what my occupation is?" she asked with raised eyebrows.
"No, I don't know what your occupation is at the moment - but I can figure it out." Sherlock stated emphatically.
"Mr. Holmes, your brother instructed me to have you guess who I am and what I do - but really, I think you'll be able to figure it out pretty quickly. He said this would sharpen your skills, and it will get me back into practice. I could really care less at the moment, but I'll go along with him on this."
Sherlock scoffed, "Of course I'll figure it out!"
Alex nodded, "I have every confidence in the world that you will." With that said, she thanked John for the tea, then headed downstairs.
XXXXX
Sherlock looked up quickly from the file he was analyzing when laughter floated up the stairs. "Is she still here?"
John looked up from his book, "Yes, Ms. Hudson is letting her sleep on her couch until she can sleep in her apartment." He recalled Alex mentioning it when he stepped out to get milk earlier.
Sherlock frowned, "Doesn't she have a hotel room?"
John lifted his brows, "Obviously not."
Sherlock jumped up, "Wait." He paced back and forth twice. "She didn't just arrive here in London. She's been here awhile. She does have a place to stay . . . She just doesn't want to go back." He clasped his hands behind his back as thoughts started tumbling quickly. He looked at the place where she stood in front of him, though not really seeing it. "She doesn't want to go back - but she's not in trouble."
"How do you know she's not in trouble?" John questioned, trying to keep up with Sherlock's line of thinking.
Sherlock pursed his lips and looked at John as if the answer was written on the wall. He sighed, "She got a mani/pedi. She must just want to escape for awhile. Interesting." Sherlock fell silent.
John watched Sherlock, not quite sure if the conversation was over. But, after a few minutes of silence, he took it as so and went back to reading his book.
"Invite her for dinner. We'll order in." Sherlock sat back down and opened the file again.
John looked around the room, puzzled. "What?"
Sherlock closed his eyes momentarily, "You heard what I said."
Realization hit John rather quickly, "Oh, you want to observe her and get information from her - got it." He wedged his book between the chair cushion and stood up. He glanced at Sherlock once more, then headed downstairs.
XXXXX
1830 - 221B Baker Street
When Alex came upstairs for dinner, Sherlock was pacing and on the phone.
"Why doesn't he pick up!" Sherlock demanded to no one in particular.
John indicated for her to help him put the plates out, "He's trying to get hold of Detective Inspector Lestrade. He's got a lead on the case." he explained softly to her.
"Finally! The man you found strangled in Hyde Park this morning, was it Alfred Baxter?" Sherlock demanded to know.
"Yes, how did you know? We didn't tell the press." Lestrade questioned over the phone.
"The picture in the paper, his cuff links - AB." Sherlock stated.
"Bloody hell!" Lestrade fumed. They hadn't let the photographers get that close. He took a deep breath, "Okay, what do you know about it?"
"Five days ago, he received a fan girl letter. There are also three other prominent men that have gotten such letters over the past few days. According to the dates, I suggest that you put surveillance on David Norwood quickly. Send over the crime scene photos and complete file from this morning and I'll look them over." Sherlock hung up and came over to the table.
John looked at Sherlock questionably, "You don't want to go to the scene yourself?"
Sherlock waved his hand, "It's been contaminated by now." He smiled a little too brightly at Alex, "Good evening. So glad you could join us."
Alex gave him a small smile as they sat down at the table, "Thank you for inviting me."
John passed the take out Chinese. "And you don't want to go to the morgue to check over the body?" he was surprised.
"I'll look at the file first." Sherlock watched as Alex placed a helping of shrimp fried rice on her plate, then handed him the container.
Sherlock took it, then put it down in the center of the table.
Alex raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you going to eat?"
"I don't eat in the middle of a case." Sherlock shrugged and drank a sip of tea.
Alex pushed her plate away.
John frowned, "Aren't you going to eat?" he questioned her.
She looked at John, "How do I know he didn't put something in it?"
Sherlock scoffed, "You are a suspicious one!"
Alex narrowed her eyes at John, "How many times has he invited a woman over for dinner?"
John looked uncomfortable, "None, that I know of."
Sherlock gave John a glare - you could have just lied. He looked over Alex carefully, "You think I spiked your food with a truth serum?"
She shrugged, "You do want answers." She leaned forward. "Look, if you want a conversation with me - you're going to have to eat too."
Sherlock watched her for a few moments, then sighed heavily. He grabbed the container and put some food on his plate.
Alex moved her plate back where it had been and waited.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, then took a bite of the food. "Satisfied?" he asked after he swallowed.
Alex smiled, then got another container and put some more food on her plate, then handed it to Sherlock.
He didn't baulk, he just went ahead and put some on his plate dutifully.
John sipped his water to hide his smile. This was going to an interesting meal.
Sherlock took another bite of food and thought carefully. "You lived in America for most of your childhood."
"Most of it. Travelled quite a bit." she nodded.
"Only child." Sherlock stated.
"Very good. Tell me how you came up with that." Alex took another bite of food.
"You're too independent to have had any siblings." he shrugged. Sherlock watched her as she ate, keeping an eye on her facial expressions, eye movement, breathing, and the pulse at her throat.
"So, you want to know more about my childhood - do you think that will help you?" Alex questioned him.
"Yes." Sherlock nodded and continued to eat and indicated for her to go on.
Alex smiled, "Okay. When we were in the United States, we lived in New York. I travelled extensively. I loved puzzles and those brain games, my father would always get me a new book when I travelled to keep me occupied on the plane. I hated the dresses I had to wear and I didn't have a pair of jeans until I was sixteen. Though I always wanted a pet, I never had one. I graduated from high school at an early age, college too. I've only had three jobs." She raised her eyebrow - Sherlock had been nodding while she'd rambled on, "Anything come to mind?"
Sherlock sat back, "Your parents once loved each other deeply, but your Mother became resentful. They got divorced when you were five or six years old. Your Mother was cold towards you, yet instead of just pushing you aside - she lavished you with dresses you didn't like." He blinked, "She took you out to show you off to the public - she was a stage actress in New York. You didn't like any of the attention, and that's when you learned to suppress your own emotions and acted like you cared." He looked at her questionably.
Alex nodded slowly. She was amazed that he had deduced all of that from what she said. A thought hit her rather quickly - it was a conversation between her parents before they divorced. Her Mother had claimed that her Father had ruined her life when she had been stupid enough to fall in love with him and that she could never go back to the job she loved because she was now tied down with a child. She frowned slightly, what job was her Mother referring to? She remembered the murmured conversations between her parents about the CIA and MI6 when she had been young, she knew that her Father had, at one time, worked for MI6 - but what if her Mother had worked for the CIA? That possibility struck her to the core.
"Are you okay?" John questioned as Alex stopped her fork midair.
Alex looked at John, "I'm fine. I just remembered a conversation my parents had when I was a child. I'll have to call my father on his mobile later and ask him, though I don't know if he'll give me a straight answer." She turned to Sherlock, "What about my father?"
"Your father supported you pushing yourself in your education - though you think you've disappointed him." Sherlock stated, "I have a question."
"Go on." Alex prodded after a minute of silence from him.
Sherlock leaned closer, "What was your major in college?"
"Insightful question. I had three majors in college - took me an extra two years of schooling. International Relations, Military Science, and Cryptology." Alex said, then sipped her water.
A grin transformed Sherlock's face.
Alex smiled, "Okay, I can tell you've figured it out."
"You graduated high school at sixteen and went to a local college and took your foundation courses. At the age of eighteen, you decided to give up your dual citizenship and declare your allegiance to the United States of America when you went into the Military Science program at the University to become a United States Marine. That, is what you think has disappointed your Father - that you didn't join the Royal Navy like him. You are still in the Marine Corps, though now in the Reserves, as an Analyst and Linguist. You rose up quickly through the officer ranks - I'm going to take a stab and say you're a Colonel?"
Alex nodded, a bit stunned.
"Because of your analytical, language, and acting skills, you were recruited into the CIA - though few people know that." Sherlock watched as her jaw clenched slightly and she looked down at her plate and breathed slowly to keep her heart rate from accelerating - she was doing a good job controlling her emotions. "Though you are on the books as an Analyst - you are a spy, sorry I think they call you Operatives. Anyhow, you came to the attention of our government seven months ago when an Operation you were on in Kabul kept the Royal Prince and his unit from being captured by the local terrorists. Relations between countries have become increasingly stressed and strained because of all of the megalomaniacs and terrorists cells wrecking havoc in the world and more international interagency cooperation has been called for. You are here officially as the CIA Liaison Analyst to MI6, but that's not what you really are. Your first name is Alexandrea, but your last name is not Machleeon - that is an anagram for chameleon. The Chameleon - the name of a woman only spoken in whispers because she has taken down many mad men."
Alex looked between the two men carefully, "Only five people in the world - now seven - know who I am. I'd sincerely appreciate it if you wouldn't mention what you've just said to anyone. If questioned, you can say I'm a Colonel in the Marine Corps, I'm an Analyst and Linguist and that I'm here on temporary assignment working with MI6." She looked at the questionably.
They both nodded that they would stick with her cover story.
Alex looked at Sherlock, "I need to know how you figured all that out." She needed to know how she'd messed up.
Sherlock took another sip of his tea, "The biggest clue was the only personal item you brought with you in your sacks of second hand clothes. An official invitation for you and a guest to attend the Christening of the newest member of the Royal Family, with a post script from the Royal Prince thanking you once again because if you hadn't interceded, he wouldn't be here for his wife and son." Sherlock looked at her pointedly, "Sentiment - that letter means a lot to you. From there, I knew that you were involved with his narrow escape in evading the terrorists cells in Kabul seven months ago. It was rumored that the CIA and the Chameleon had been involved. You also shouldn't have made it an anagram and tried to pass it off as your last name."
Alex shrugged, "That was Mycroft's idea, my last name is York. How did you know I had dual citizenship?"
"Your facial structure indicates you have very close English descent, plus the fact you called your father's phone a mobile - not a cell phone like most Americans." Sherlock stated.
John frowned, "But, how did you know her father was in the Royal Navy?"
"Why else would she think she's disappointed her father?" he said, as if it was blatantly obvious.
Alex studied Sherlock carefully, "I knew you were good at deducing people, but I didn't think you would have zeroed in so accurately." she admitted. She looked back quickly as she heard the door downstairs open and Ms. Hudson greet a man. She listened as quick footsteps came up the stairs and instinctively turned to see who it was.
Sherlock had noted Alex's evaluation of what she'd heard. He stood up and took the files from the police officer, then quickly headed to his desk to look over all of the crime scene photos.
John glanced at the confused officer, "Thank you for bringing those files over."
The officer nodded, then left.
Alex looked at John when Sherlock didn't come back to the table to finish eating.
John shrugged, "He's focused, won't be coming back over here." he tried to explain.
Alex gave John a small smile, "That's okay - I'm not here just to chat with Sherlock. I really enjoyed reading your blog about everything Sherlock had done during his absence - it was written much better than the articles in the papers."
John smiled softly as they began clearing off the table and throwing the containers away. "Thank you. So, you read the blog?" he inquired.
Alex nodded, "It's very insightful." She looked at the dishes and bowls on the counter, "Would you like me to help wash?" She looked at him pointedly, "I don't offer often, but I just don't feel like going downstairs to go to sleep on the couch just yet."
"You wash, I'll dry." John nodded with a bright smile.
XXXXX
Sherlock sat back in his chair as he contemplated the file Lestrade had sent over.
John sat down in the chair across from him, "So, have you gotten any leads from the letters in the file?"
"Alfred Baxter was on his usual morning run in the early hours, the park was practically vacant - perfect opportunity for the killer to strangle him. The killer left him on a park bench for him to be found. The killer is obviously a man, but the letters are written by a female." Sherlock sighed in frustration.
"Maybe it's a couple working together?" John postulated.
Sherlock grumped once more, then stood up and grabbed his coat. "I'm going out." he announced, then flew down the stairs.
XXXXX
Alex heard the front door shut and sighed softly. She laid back on Ms. Hudson's couch and thought carefully over everything Sherlock had deduced about her. He was right. Luckily, there were a few things he hadn't said and hopefully he wouldn't find out. She had learned at a very early age that she couldn't trust anyone - and now there were two more people in the world that potentially held her life in their hands. There were a few people in the world she could rely on, but in reality she only had herself. She had been given two additional weeks to recuperate. The last mission she'd been on had been a success, but she had gotten shot by friendly fire. She was more angry at herself for making a mistake than anything else, but the psychologists had recommended two more weeks off for her anger to dissipate. She frowned slightly and pulled the sheet up to her chin. She could kick herself for keeping the letter and for wanting to go to the Christening, but it was the first time in her entire career that she had ever been acknowledged for the work she did.
XXXXX
Chapter 1 - Another one bites the dust
0800 - 221B Baker Street
Sherlock bolted up in bed at the sound of hammers and a slew of men's voices. He had come back at five this morning and saw Alex in her running suit as she headed out down the street. She had not seen him as she had picked up her pace and rounded the corner. Sherlock scowled as he went to the window and looked down into the fenced in area below the flat and saw men coming in from the alley carrying drywall. He frowned. They had obviously taken out the huge floor to ceiling window of 221C and were using it to go in and out of to redo the basement flat and make it livable. His eyebrows rose when he saw the name emblazoned on the side of the truck - Weston's Restoration - it was the company that did many of the restorations to historical places in London. Well, she certainly didn't skimp when she picked a company to work on the flat, though more than likely Mycroft had suggested them. He sighed deeply, he would not be able to sleep any further with the amount of racket coming from below. He selected his clothes for the day and headed for the shower.
Alex came up stairs bringing muffins she'd picked up earlier from a shop down the street as an apology for all of the noise downstairs today as the crew was taking down all the walls and putting up newer mold resistant drywall. "Good morning, John." she said from the door.
John looked up from his paper, "Oh, good morning, Alex. I didn't hear you come up the stairs."
Alex stepped in and held out the basket of muffins, "Probably because of the destruction taking place so loudly from below. I do apologize, but the walls have got to be replaced." She came over and offered him his choice of the muffins.
"You've got blueberry in there?" John smiled.
She nodded as he found one of them and sat back in his chair to start eating it.
"Have a seat." he offered.
Alex took the muffins to the kitchen and placed the basket on the table and selected one of the apple cinnamon ones for herself. She came back in the living room and opted to pull one of the dining chairs over to sit in, instead of sitting in Sherlock's chair. "How's Mary doing?" she inquired. As they had done the dishes last night, she'd learned quite a bit about John.
"Oh, fine. Thank you for asking. She had to work the early shift today." John stated as he bit into the muffin and smiled. "This is wonderful."
Sherlock came into the kitchen a moment later, already dressed in one of his navy pant suits and a light blue silk shirt. "Good morning, John." He glanced at the basket of muffins, "Is this an offering to placate us for the blessed racket coming from your flat?" he questioned Alex as he filled the tea kettle and put it on the stove.
"Yes. Good morning, Sherlock." Alex nodded as she watched him eye the muffins, but didn't take one.
"Tea?" he offered them both.
"Yes, please." Alex smiled softly, but only got a raised eyebrow in return.
"Kind of you." John stated. It wasn't often that Sherlock offered to fix tea. He looked at Alex, "Did you have a good run this morning?"
Sherlock brought John his cup, then handed Alex hers as he looked over her leg and frowned at the fresh bandage on her outer left thigh.
"It was fine, thank you." Alex said, then sipped her tea after she blew on it gently.
Sherlock retrieved his cup of tea from the kitchen and frowned, "You probably shouldn't run for a few days until your wound reseals." he commented as he walked over to the table and opened the file again.
"What wound?" John questioned.
Sherlock flicked his gaze at her thigh for the doctor, "The bullet wound that re-opened when she pushed herself too hard running." He flipped through the four letters again and sipped his tea.
"You were shot?" John questioned as he looked at the fresh bandage on her thigh.
"Yes, a few weeks ago, unfortunate business." she frowned slightly. How did Sherlock know it was a bullet wound and not just a knife wound?
John leaned forward, "Why don't you let me take a look at it - make sure it doesn't require stitches, or more repair?" he suggested.
Alex nodded and watched as John went to retrieve his medical bag. She glanced at Sherlock, "You didn't have to tell him."
Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on the letters, "It needs to be looked at."
John came back and carefully took off the bandage and looked over the wound. "Well, looks like they did a good job initially. Did they use one of the newer resins?" he questioned.
"Yes, but it doesn't seem to be as strong as they said it would be." Alex frowned. The wound had really just slightly opened and wasn't too bad.
"Let me just clean it again, put a bit of sealant, and a few butterfly bandages on it. I would suggest you not run tomorrow - give it another day to reseal." John suggested. When she nodded, he efficiently got to work. "Do you mind me asking who shot you?"
Alex hesitated.
Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That's why she was here. "Friendly fire." he said and looked at her for her reaction.
Alex's eyes narrowed. She looked away from Sherlock and focused on John, "Yes."
John frowned, he'd seen quite a few men hit by friendly fire. Understandably, they hadn't been happy about it and had been resentful. He nodded to her in understanding as he finished putting a fresh bandage on the wound. "That's why you're here. Well, we won't bother you about it anymore." He stood up and looked at Sherlock pointedly to make sure he dropped the subject all together.
Sherlock shrugged with indifference - it's not like it mattered to him.
John patted her shoulder gently as he left the room to put his bag back up.
Alex glanced at Sherlock again, "How did you know?" she questioned quietly.
"If it had been an enemy, you would have said so quickly. That also explains why you are here, instead of your other flat which is undoubtedly near the person that shot you." he took another sip of tea casually. He frowned as he looked over the letters again as John came back into the room. "Baxter, Norwood, Dalton, Sinclair. . . These men have got to have something in common, other than just being prominent members of society, for this fan girl to target them."
Alex looked up quickly from her tea, "What were the names again?" Where had she seen those names together before?
Sherlock repeated the names and looked at her questionably when a surprised look came over her face.
"Oh my, can I see your phone?" she asked Sherlock.
"What do you need looked up?" He didn't let people borrow his phone - not after that woman had messed with his last one.
"A List of London's Most Eligible Bachelors." Alex explained as she stood up and moved closer to him.
Sherlock's eyebrows rose as the article quickly came up. All of the men's names were on the list - ten total, his own name was listed as number five. He frowned, "How did you come across this list?" It was from a reputable gay and lesbian magazine, but his intuition said she didn't usually read this magazine.
"As a joke to the man that shot me, I gave him that magazine to read on the plane ride. I happened to look over the list." Alex shrugged.
John had quickly pulled up the article on his phone and his face grew apprehensive as he read over the ten names on the list. "So, the fan girl is really a guy? I thought you said you were sure it was a female writer."
Sherlock huffed, "Of course it's a female writer." He frowned again, "Something's off." His phone rang and he quickly answered it. "Sherlock Holmes."
"David Norwood is dead." Lestrade stated.
"Text me the address. We'll be there shortly." Sherlock hung up and looked at Alex, "Do you have a suit?"
She nodded.
"Good. Go change and you can come with us." Sherlock said.
John frowned, "Norwood?"
Sherlock nodded.
Alex quickly headed downstairs to change and was grateful that she'd already showered after her run.
As soon as John heard her go into Ms. Hudson's flat, he looked at Sherlock skeptically.
Sherlock shrugged, "She may be able to help - she undoubtedly knows how to make crime scenes look like she needs them to." he reminded his friend of her job.
"You sure it's not just because of the magazine that list was in?" John inquired.
"I could care less." Sherlock dismissed the idea that it bothered him in anyway.
Ten minutes later, Alex met them in the foyer in a grey pant suit and black shirt.
"Lovely suit." John commented to her as they headed outside and Sherlock quickly hailed a cab and instructed the driver where to go.
They rode silently to the Royal Courts and exited the cab and headed for the crime tape.
"Oh my god - you've brought another one? What does she do, séances?" the dark skinned police woman scoffed.
"Mind your manners, Donovan." Sherlock said as he passed by her.
Donovan frowned, "Detective Inspector - the Freak's brought another one!" she called out.
Alex lifted her eyebrow curiously at the woman as she went past and couldn't help but see the disdain in the woman's eyes.
The Detective Inspector walked over to them quickly and looked over Alex.
Alex extended her hand, "Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm Colonel Alex York - pleasure to meet you, though not under these circumstances." She shook his hand firmly.
"What is your area of specialty?" Lestrade questioned her as Sherlock immediately went to examine the body on the bench.
"I'm an Analyst, specializing in cryptology and languages - I've been loaned out to your government for awhile." She explained her cover easily. "The men's names are on an A List of London's Most Eligible Bachelors."
Lestrade raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
"Yes, there are ten men on the list." She dropped her voice, "Sherlock Holmes is number five and the younger Prince is number one."
"I can still hear you." Sherlock stated as he stood back and indicated for John to have a look at the body. "And it doesn't matter, we'll identify the killer soon." Sherlock's gaze took in all of the details of the area swiftly. "Where was his police detail?"
Lestrade shook his head, "They were switching shifts and Norwood was on his way to court."
"The killer had to change time and place for this murder because he noted the police presence - you should have used plain clothes officers, Lestrade." Sherlock frowned.
"Yeah - how about you not throw salt on an open wound?" the Detective Inspector requested.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Alex.
She glanced over to the body on the bench, "He had to kill him quick - lots of traffic here. Slit his throat?" she surmised.
Sherlock nodded with a small smile on his lips.
Alex looked over the area, "Followed him from the parking, around to the front, and stopped him at the bench."
Lestrade frowned, "How would you know that?" She hadn't moved a step since she introduced herself.
Sherlock rocked back and forth on his heels, "Because, Detective Inspector, Norwood was on his way to court, he did not have a reason to stop and sit on the bench." He glanced at Alex again, "What else?"
Alex looked at the body again, "The scarf isn't Norwood's." She did a 360 turn, "There are twelve CCTVs in the area - if you could take me to the station that has access, I might be able to backtrack where the killer came from." she suggested.
"I'll have to check your clearance level." Lestrade pointed out.
Alex nodded, "That's fine."
Lestrade started to walk away, but paused. "How do you know about the scarf?"
Sherlock shrugged, "The man color coordinates down to his socks - he would never wear that hideous scarf. The killer wrapped it around Norwood so passersby wouldn't notice all of the blood pouring from his throat."
Lestrade nodded and walked away as John came over to them.
"Most likely a six inch knife, well sharpened. Right handed, amateur - the wound was deeper than it needed to be to kill him, but it was accurate so the killer has studied somewhat. No self defense wounds. Either Norwood knew the killer, or the killer was a completely unsuspecting looking fellow." John stated.
Both men looked at her curiously as her phone rang.
Alex stepped away a few feet and answered the phone, "York."
"Why are you wanting access to the CCTVs?" Mycroft Holmes questioned.
"I've offered to help, since I know how to backtrack someone's movements on them." she explained.
"You are supposed to be recuperating." Mycroft reminded her.
Alex nodded, "What I do on my time off should not be of any concern to you."
"Except that I have to authorize your access." he pointed out with a heavy sigh.
"Mycroft, the letters are going in order from a list of the ten most eligible bachelors in London. The killer has just slit the throat of bachelor number nine, bachelor number ten was strangled yesterday. Sherlock is on the list, and also the younger Prince. The faster I am able to help, the better for all concerned." Alex explained the situation carefully.
After a few moments of silence, Mycroft cleared his throat. "I will authorize your access and I will have a few more of your belongings sent over to your flat."
"Please have them delivered to Ms. Hudson - my flat isn't secure yet. Thank you." she said, then hung up. She took a cleansing breath and turned around to find the three men huddled, discussing something.
Lestrade glanced at his phone as a text came in. "You've been cleared for access. We'll go in just a bit when I'm finished up here."
Alex watched as Sherlock put the scarf in a bag. "Why don't you go and work on that while I go with Lestrade? It will take a bit of time for me to backtrack the killer." She watched as Norwood's body was placed in a bag and transported to the waiting van.
Sherlock nodded, "Text me when you have news."
John nodded to her, then the two of them quickly walked away and hailed a cab.
XXXXX
Lestrade drove Alex to New Scotland Yard and led her to one of the rooms with the CCTV cameras. He quickly introduced her to the three officers in the room.
"I really only need one officer to help me." she stated.
Lestrade nodded, "Ryan, you stay here and help. You two can go work in the other room." They left and he gave her a small smile, "Notify me when you got something."
"Thank you, Detective Inspector." Alex smiled, then walked over to the younger man. "I take it you're getting your degree in Computer Technology?" she inquired.
"Yes, Ma'am - how did you know?" the young man's green eyes lit up.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade wouldn't have left someone with me that didn't know what they were doing." Alex smiled. She had noted the backpack and the college textbook sticking out, but sometimes it was better to just stroke people's egos than just pointing out the obvious. She quickly told him of the crime, time, and location, and that she wanted to backtrack where the killer had come from.
"That could be quite difficult Ma'am, especially of he used public transportation during rush hour." Ryan frowned slightly.
Alex patted the young man's shoulder gently, "That's why I'm here. Together, I'm sure we can find him."
Ryan smiled and quickly called up the CCTVs in the area of the crime scene.
It took three hours of switching back and forth between countless cameras to follow the man in the black hooded sweatshirt and black jacket from the Royal Court all the way to Knightsbridge.
Alex frowned slightly as she sat back in the chair. No matter how many angles they had tried, they couldn't distinguish which home in the area the killer had come from because of trees and other obstructions. They could only narrow it down to a one block radius.
"I'm sorry we couldn't do any better, Ma'am." Ryan said as he saw the frown on her lovely face.
Alex quickly smiled and sat up, "Thank you for all of your help. With a little bit of foot work, we should be able to find him soon. I really do appreciate you working with me. Has all of the footage been saved to the memory stick?" she questioned.
"It's finishing up now." he indicated the flashing light.
"Ryan, why don't you go grab your lunch? I'll stay here, maybe get some coffee." she suggested.
Ryan nodded, "I'll be back shortly."
She stood up and got her phone out and quickly sent a text to Sherlock.
- Narrowed down to a one block radius. ~ A
She quickly got a reply.
- On our way. ~ SH
Alex put her phone back in her jacket pocket and studied the ten screens with the last angles on them.
The door opened and a dark haired Community Officer stepped in and nodded politely. "Heard you were in need for some coffee." he smiled softly.
Alex nodded, "Yes, thank you." She took a sip of the warm, but not scalding, sweetened coffee as she looked back over the screens.
"You're American?" he guessed.
"Yes, just helping out." she took another few drinks as she switched a few of the camera angles again.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" he questioned as he came over and looked at all of the screens curiously.
Alex shrugged, "Close enough." She finished the coffee and glanced around for a trash can.
"I'll take care of it, Ma'am." he smiled and accepted the empty cup. "I'll come back and check on you in a bit."
When the door shut, Alex put her focus back on the cameras. She rubbed her eyes as they had a bit of trouble focusing. Alex felt a sharp pain travel down her spine and throughout her limbs. She gripped the edge of the desk as she gritted her teeth, then just as suddenly, she couldn't maintain her hold on the desk. The next jolt felt like she'd been hit with a taser. She unsteadily fumbled for her phone and managed to push the emergency button before the next jolt hit her and sent her crashing to the floor.
"Alexandrea?" Mycroft's voice called out.
Alex couldn't make her hand reach out and grasp the fallen phone as she started to convulse. "Coffee. . . stupid. . . forward. . ." Her body started to seize.
"Alexandrea!" Mycroft yelled into the phone.
XXXXX
Sherlock frowned at the caller id when his phone rang as they pulled up to New Scotland Yard. "What do you want, Mycroft?"
"Alexandrea is in trouble. I've just notified Detective Inspector Lestrade. She's in CCTV Room One. She spoke a garbled mess to me, but now she isn't speaking." Mycroft quickly explained as the door to his car was held open for him.
"We're here. We'll get to her." Sherlock bolted out of the cab and left John to pay as he raced up the stairs. He ran quickly down the hall to the room and noted Lestrade racing from the other end of the hall. Sherlock tried to open the door, but it was locked. He quickly slammed his foot below the door handle and the door broke open. Alex was convulsing on the floor and he quickly went to her. "John!" he called as soon as John and Lestrade came racing in.
John's eyes widened as he knelt down beside her, "Does she have a history of seizures or drug use?" he questioned as he quickly took her vitals and rolled her on her side.
"No." Mycroft answered over the phone.
Sherlock stood up and quickly analyzed the scene, "What did she say Mycroft?" he demanded.
Mycroft quickly replayed the audio for his brother.
"I don't see any coffee!" Sherlock glowered as he went over the room.
Officer Ryan came in and his mouth gaped open, "What happened?"
Lestrade looked at the young man sharply, "Where did you go?"
"She sent me for a break. She had mentioned coffee, so I asked one of the officers in the break room to bring her some." Ryan answered quickly.
Sherlock flinched, "You, call up all of the cameras to this room and find out who that officer is!"
Ryan quickly pulled up the cameras outside the room and they saw the officer leave and throw the cup away in the trash can outside the door.
"Get the cup." Sherlock instructed Lestrade. "Go back and follow him to the break room." he instructed the young man as the medics quickly arrived.
John quickly indicated he was a doctor, then told them her vitals. "Clonus." he indicated the involuntary, rhythmic, muscular contractions and relaxations of her body. "Administer the activated charcoal." he ordered them.
Sherlock frowned as he watched the man in the Community Police Officer's uniform, who definitely wasn't a police officer, put something into the cup of coffee.
John glanced at Sherlock, "She's been overdosed and has serotonin toxicity. We need to know exactly what drug it was."
Lestrade had the cup in his hand.
Sherlock nodded to John, "Go to the hospital with her, I'll analyze the cup." He snatched the cup from Lestrade and raced down the halls to the lab.
XXXXX
John looked up and sighed softly as Sherlock came into the hospital room.
Sherlock had found out the drug was paroxetine, mainly used to stabilize people prone to panic attacks. "How is she?" he questioned as he stood at the foot of the bed and looked over her.
"Feeling stupid." Alex said softly as she opened her eyes and shook her head. "Took a drink from someone I didn't know."
Mycroft stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in, "You were in a place that was supposed to be secure." He walked over and stood near the side of her bed.
"I want to leave." Alex told Mycroft.
John frowned as he moved closer, "The drugs are out of your system, but I'm sure they'll want to keep you overnight for observation."
Alex kept her gaze firmly fixed on Mycroft.
He took a deep breath and nodded, "I'll see what I can do. John, let's see if we can convince them to release her." The two men left.
Sherlock took a calming breath as he continued to watch her. "You did a good job backtracking the killer to a one block radius - I'm sure it won't take long to find him." He noted her frown. "I had Ryan track the killer forward from the crime scene. He had stayed at the scene, watching. He followed you and Lestrade." He watched as she clenched her fists and closed her eyes. He quickly walked over and squeezed her hand gently to get her to look at him. "Are you in pain?" he questioned.
Alex shook her head, "Only my pride. I'll be fine."
"Do you remember details about him?" he asked.
"Not yet, but I will. It's a little fuzzy right now." she shrugged. Alex squeezed his hand when she realized he was still holding hers, "I could use a holiday."
Sherlock gave her a small smirk, "You've earned one. We'll cater to your whims tonight."
The door opened behind them and Mycroft and John came back in.
Sherlock patted her hand, "I'm sure Mycroft will get you released soon, or else I know of at least five ways to get you out of here illegally." He turned and raised an eyebrow at his brother as he clasped his hands behind his back.
Mycroft nodded, "With the understanding that Dr. Watson will be close by in case of an emergency."
Alex smiled, "Thank you, Mycroft. I'm sorry to be such a bother today - I know you have much more important matters to be attending to." she apologized.
Mycroft moved closer to the bed, "Alexandrea, you are important - as is the case you have offered to help with. Any help you provide is appreciated." He looked at the other two men. "Why don't we give Alexandrea some privacy?" he suggested.
John went to the closet and brought over her suit and shirt and shoes and put them on the bed for her to reach easily. "We'll be right outside the door."
XXXXX
Alex looked up from the chicken noodle soup in her bowl, "Lestrade has his people protecting Dalton and Sinclair?"
Sherlock nodded, "Yes, and also George Kinsley - he received a letter today. Lestrade also has his people checking the pharmacies for people with prescriptions for paroxetine and its many labels."
Alex glanced at John, "How would the drug effect people that need it?" she inquired.
"It's meant to calm their nerves and the brain functions that are propelling their panic attack/phobia/paranoia. Helps them try and focus, so their caretakers can help them." John tried to explain in simple terms.
Sherlock looked up quickly, "Susceptible to suggestion?"
"Suggestion. . . well, I guess." John nodded slowly.
Sherlock grinned, "Then that's how he does it! It is a woman that writes the letters - she's just been influenced to write it. I'd wondered why she'd paused so many times in her sentences - it's because he's dictating to her. Brilliant! As soon as we find out who the woman is that gets the paroxetine, we just need to look to her caregivers."
Alex frowned, "This caregiver has found a way to take control and he likes it. He's becoming very confident - he went to New Scotland Yard to drug me. He's escalating." she pointed out.
Sherlock nodded as he finished the soup in his bowl.
John picked up the empty bowls and put them in the sink. He turned and looked at Alex, "Headache?"
She nodded.
He gave her two aspirin with a glass of water and she quickly downed them. "Good night." he smiled softly and headed to his room.
Alex watched as Sherlock went to the living room and opened the files.
"Come here." he directed.
Alex walked over slowly and stood by Sherlock. She wondered what he wanted.
As if hearing her thoughts, he raised an eyebrow. "You did very well today. Look them over and tell me what you see." Sherlock went to the couch and laid down to think.
XXXXX
TBC.
I hope you enjoyed reading this. Reviews are greatly appreciated!