A/N: Okay well this is a total rewrite and I really disliked how quickly it died, so I'm going to try again, during exam season. This story will be the ultimate procrastination but here we go!
"Sherlock?" She giggled. God he couldn't stand women giggling. He refused to answer as he continued examining scrapings of eyeballs under his microscope. He'd been watching Doctor Who and he refused to believe that people's eyes really could capture an image before death, no matter how their cells were changed.
"Sherlock…" She repeated and he turned to her, the look pasted on his face would have stopped most from hassling him but not her. He raised an eyebrow, daring her to continue.
"Don't you ever get lonely?" He turned back to his experiment wordlessly.
"My my you are talkative today, that reluctant sigh was almost boggling to my ears." She snorted and flicked the book she was reading closed, swinging her legs over his armchair.
"Miss Moriarty…" He said, gritting his teeth.
"Don't even use that one on me." She snarled and he looked up in surprise. "Don't you dare use that name." She growled and the tension rolled off her in waves.
"But it is your name, correct?" He disliked the girl but she was a necessity.
"My name is Jasmine, you should try it." She all but hissed and Sherlock suddenly had an image of an angry cat.
"I am actually uncaring of your name to be perfectly honest, all I care about is getting you out of my house." He turned again back to the microscope and heard her snort in laughter. Closing his eyes, he'd been warned by John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade to be nice to her, she was a witness in the whole case of Moriarty.
"You call me by my surname once more and I can make you squirm." She eyeballed the man in the kitchen who glared back.
"You can try your worst but nothing really ruffles me." Sherlock smiled haughtily.
"I can try, dumbass." He twitched. "I could try moron, how about thick-witted, personally…" She had stood and had cornered him to the table. "I prefer Shirley." She grinned suddenly and Sherlock was irritated by just how easily she managed to get under his skin.
"You can say it." She grinned lazily, stepping out of his comfort space and leaning against the fridge. "I'm identical to my cousin." She smirked again.
"Yes, but how many have you murdered Miss Moriarty?" DI Lestrade strode into the room.
"Ooh my rap sheet's in." She grinned and the detective was struck by the peculiarity of the girl; there was a trace of James Moriarty in the girl, the dark hair, the glinting eyes that held more than a drop of menace, more so in her character. She was manipulative, whimsical and as changeable as the wind.
"What do you mean?" John walked in behind the detective, shrugging off his coat as Sally Donovan hovered at the doorway, the women disliked each other intensely.
"Jasmine Moriarty…" Lestrade started but she ignored him and plucked the manila folder from the crook of his arm and scanned through.
"Well that's not too bad, I mean prostitution's a pretty minor thing for Jim, as for supplying heroin, yeah no biggie again." She snorted and tossed the folder onto the coffee table. No-one in the room moved, Sherlock watched her like she was an experiment unfolding before him.
"These are all I can find on my travels, ducking and diving from some of his beautiful assassins. I mean the baby faced one over in Greece was delicious, sadly he didn't catch his flight, I left him tied to a bed but I don't think he minded too much." Jasmine rambled as she pulled a clutch of folders from a bag beside her. The manila folders all held her picture but not always her name; Rose Noble; Donna Tyler; Marie French; Antonia Banner, the list was endless. The places were endless, New Jersey; New York; Singapore; New Delhi; Amritsar; Melbourne; Wellington; Rome; Paris; Dubai.
The three men looked baffled as the young woman stood there, hands on hips, still smirking.
"I pissed James Moriarty off once too often, but as family there was a code to say he couldn't kill me. It didn't say he couldn't make my life a living nightmare." She shrugged again and collected the folders, Sherlock noticed with a smile that the London one was slipped into her bag as well. "You put me in a secure location for a reason Detective Lestrade, we both know that my cousin is alive and well. We also know that he actually attempted to kill me just before Sherlock resurfaced. You put me in the most protective custody you can think of – Sherlock."
Lestrade said nothing but she saw the questions forming on John Watson's lips.
"The logic is that my cousin is healing, Sherlock will always be the focus, but only when James is ready, until then he won't go anywhere near 221b Baker Street." Jasmine shrugged and looked at the men opposing her.