Howdy, so this is the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and maybe be REALLY nice and leave me review. They make me want to write more. Also, I made a playlist. I'm not sure if I want to post it or not. If you can, tell me if you would like it.
I do not own Sherlock Holmes nor do I own the plotlines of BBC Sherlock. I only own Melanie and Jamie.
Love you all..Enjoy!
Melanie took out her phone once the car had started moving. She tapped out a message to Sherlock, explaining that John was being paid a visit by his 'archememy', and that she was accompanying him. He replied within moments, complaining that he needed her help. She ignored it and focused on where they were going.
They arrived at a warehouse, Anthea motioning for them to get out. Melanie waved sarcastically at her as she exited and followed John to where the British government was standing. Smirking, she pretended to curtsey in front of him, revelling in his annoyance. "Hello Melanie, I don't recall sending for you," he said curtly, eyes narrowing.
"Well, I couldn't let Johnny boy here come alone. It'd be irresponsible." she giggled, watching him. "Come on, Mr. British Government," she mocked. "I do know how much you would like to shoot me. You know, however, you would have a bit of trouble if you did," she raised an eyebrow and stretched her arms out. "Look at me, getting in your way."
The man sighed and shook his head, before looking up and smirking at her. "Oh, Melanie, I don't have to shoot you to ruin your life. We can both keep pretending we don't know what your dear brother does in his free time. I heard he's looking for who's hiding you. I can always pull back the curtains for him," he tilted his head and looked at her. "I doubt anyone would like that."
Melanie blanched and took a step back, standing behind John. "You wouldn't dare," her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. "Sherlock would not be very happy if I suddenly dissappeared. And I doubt you would like explaining my dead body to him," she said, trying not tosound weak.
The man turned his attention to John, smirk dropping. "Now, Dr. Watson. What is the nature of your relationship with Sherlock Holmes and Melanie Moriarty?" he asked, tone turning sickeningly sweet.
John looked at him sceptically and frowned. "I really don't see how that's any of your business," he told him. He looked down when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Well, you met them yesterday and now you're sharing a flat, should I expect a happy annoucement by the end of the week?" he said, smirking. Melanie stuck her tongue out at him while John just stared.
"No, no. I ...," he trailed off, looking at the man sceptically. "Why would it matter to you?" he asked after a moment. His phone went off again. Melanie rolled her eyes, already knowing who sent it.
"I worry about him, constantly," the man said, glaring at Melanie as she mocked him. "I would like to offer you a certain sum of money, for information. Nothing to indiscreet, not anything you would be uncomfortable sharing."
"No." The man raised his eyebrows at the answer, not expecting it.
"I haven't mention an amount," he tried again, receiving the same answer from the doctor. "Can I see your left hand?" he asked, moving forward to grab his wrist. "Your therapist thinks you have PTSD, that you're haunted by the war. Fire her," he told him. "You're in a stressful situation now and your hand is perfectly still. You're not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson, you miss it," he let go of his hand, grinning. "Good night Melanie," he smirked, walking away.
"The nerve of that man," she muttered, grabbing John's wrist and pulling him towards the car. Anthea looked up from her phone, looking confused.
"I'm to take you home," she said after a moment, looking back down at the phone. Melanie rolled her eyes and dragged John into the car. She rattled off the address of John's flat to Anthea, ignoring John's weird look. "I have connections," she shrugged. "I'm assuming you will want to grab some things from your flat. Sherlock seems rather insistant that we return to Baker st," she told him.
John opened his mouth and then closed it as his phone went off again. He opened the messages, frowning. 'Baker St, come at once if ' 'If inconvenient, come anyways. SH' 'Could be dangerous. SH.' He rolled his eyes and looked at her. "How could you have possibly known that?" he questioned.
"I have known the man for six years," she chuckled. "So you are coming, right? He needs someone to run around with him and quite frankly, Mrs. Hudson deserves a break from babysitting," she told him.
"Yeah, I can understand that," he said slowly after a moment. "It can't be too bad." Melanie smiled and nodded. "I just need to grab something."
X
Melanie and John walked into 221B, finding Sherlock lying on the couch. Jamie was in her high chair, watching him quietly. The man breathed in deeply and looked up at them. "Oh god, you came," he murmured offhandedly.
"Three patches really? Is it that complex?" Melanie asked, moving across the room and picking up her daughter. "I'm off for the evening. Johnny here agreed to babysit you for me. You boys have fun," she said, placing Jamie on her hip and heading to the kitchen to grab an apple. She waved at them before heading into the bedroom.
She set Jamie down in her crib, smiling at her before going to stick her head around the corner to look at the boys. "Do try not to get yourselves killed," she told them, quickly. "Oh, and John, don't let him do anything stupid." She smirked and went back into the bedroom.
Grabbing her pajamas, she headed to the bathroom. She showered quickly and got dressed. When she was done, she sprawled across the bed, falling asleep quickly. Melanie woke up abruptly when she heard a crash coming from the living room. She rolled her eyes, throwing on a button down over her tank top.
"For God's sake, what is going on in here?" she said angrily, looking around to see Scotland Yard, tearing apart the flat. "Seriously, what is going on?" she asked Lestrade, who was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room.
"Drugs bust," he shrugged, looking around. "Sorry to wake you, we thought the flat was empty," he apologised.
"Drugs bust? You know he's clean and before anyone asks, we just bloody moved here. I highly doubt that he hid any here," she growled. "Besides, no one here is actually on the drugs team," she pointed out, gesturing to Donovan and Anderson.
Sherlock and John chose that moment to come flying through the door. Melanie rolled her eyes at them and crossed her arms. "What's this?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, raising an eyebrow and looking at him, crossly.
"Drugs bust," he answered. Melanie huffed and leaned against the wall, deciding that she was not going to get involved in the conversation. She glared at him before returning to the bedroom to put on some dayclothes.
When she came back out, having thrown on a sweater and jeans, she was met with Lestrade and Sherlock showing off their nicotine patches. "Boys, boys, calm down. What's really going on?" she asked, moving to stand by Sherlock.
He grinned at her and then at John. "I know how to find him," he said excitedly. He raced to the computer and logged onto the pink woman's phone's GPS. Melanie grinned when she realized Rachel must have been the password.
"So where is the phone?" she asked, looking over his shoulder, frowning when it read that it was in the flat. "That's not right," she murmured, looking at him. She turned to look at the doorway, noticing Mrs. Hudson. "What is it now, Mrs. Hudson?" she asked her landlady.
"Yours and Sherlock's cab is here," she told them. Melanie thought for a moment before realizing something. She tugged on Sherlock's sleeve.
"I didn't order a cab," Sherlock turned to look at her. Melanie hoped he saw the cabbie behind her, waving a pink phone. "I need some air," he said simply, grabbing Melanie's hand and dragging her behind him. "Mrs. Hudson, watch Jamie."
"I'm your landlady, dear, not the babysitter," she reminded as Sherlock and Melanie moved past her, leaving the flat. They stopped when they saw the cabbie.
"Of course, it's you. The cabbie from earlier. Mels, go back inside. I have a feeling we don't need you right now," Sherlock said, not looking at her. She nodded and kissed him quickly. Turning and heading back in, she looked at Lestrade and told him that if he let them be, he would have the killer bagged in an hour. He nodded and left.
Smirking at John, she pointed to the computer. "Search for the location again, then grab you gun," she said after the last of the yard had left. "Where did you guys go?" she asked curiouly, waiting for the search to load. "Also, what did he do? You're not using the cane anymore," she wondered aloud.
"We chased a cab through London," he said simply, watching the computer. "Now, where did Sherlock go?" he asked her, looking up.
"He kind of got kidnapped. I do however think I know who wanted him kidnapped," she told him. The search completed and she grinned widely. "I know where he is. Come along John," she called over her shoulder, running down the stairs.
X
Melanie pulled John from the cab that they had taken and towards the school, not before she paid the cabbie of course. She looked between the two buildings, frowning. "Which one of them is it?" she asked him.
"I don't know," John answered. He pointed at the one closer to them. "Let's try this one," he suggested, walking towards it. Melanie followed silently, looking around them.
"We need to hurry," she told him, "If the cabbie wants him dead, we don't have long," she began running towards the building, entering and looking down the corridor. "Check the rooms," she told him, jogging slightly to look in the windows on the doors.
When the first floor was searched, they ran up the stairs to the second repeating the process until they reached a classroom across from where Sherlock was. They both looked through the window to the other building, watching him talk to the cabbie.
"John, he's going to take that pill any moment now, I need you to shoot the cabbie. Can you do that?" she ordered, eyes not leaving Sherlock. "And do try not to hit Sherlock. He's a prat, but he is insufferable when hurt," she told him.
Grabbing his gun from where he had put it, John opened the window and aimed. They both watched Sherlock take a pill from a bottle and hold it up. Melanie swallowed hard when he lowered it towards his mouth. "Now, shoot now," she told John, covering her ears as the gun went off. "Go, now. We have to hide. We can't be seen here until after the police arrive," she ordered ushering him out the door.
X
Sherlock looked at the injured cabbie on the floor. He glanced back at the window, trying to see the shooter. He couldn't and turned his attention back to the dying man. "Who do you work for?" he growled.
"I won't ever tell you," the old man spat at him. "And you can't do anything about it," he gasped in pain.
"You're dying, but that doesn't mean you can't suffer more," Sherlock told him, moving closer and using his foot to apply pressure to the bullet hole. "Who do you work for?" he asked again.
"Moriarty," the man screamed. He went limp and Sherlock stepped back. Moriarty...like Melanie Moriarty. It can't be a coincidence. Would she really higher a serial killer? His mind buzzed with the new information. He certainly needed to talk to Melanie when he saw her next. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. The evening was getting better and better.