Chapter 3

"What did you mean Sherlock, when you said that Kitty's problems weren't yours to solve?" John asked one morning. It'd been an entire week since Kitty's unexpected visit in the night and nor he or Sherlock had raised any questions or means of conversation on the matter since. However now, John sat reading the morning's paper, and spotting Miss Riley's name under the sub heading had forced him to seek an answer to his question.

Sherlock, who sat opposite him in his chair beside the fireplace, was just about to sip his cup of tea. Instead he stopped midway, blinked and shook his head, the cup lingering just beneath his lips.

"I wanted to scare her." He said eventually; there was a pause as he tasted his tea. "I don't want her hanging around us- she can't be trusted John." Sherlock continued, smiling warmly to his friend who in acknowledgment nodded once and returned his attention back to the morning's paper. Sherlock set down his tea.

"Anything interesting?" He questioned leaning forward in his seat as if to get a glimpse of whatever he may find lurking within its contents. John flicked over the page, sighing he turned it over again. Sherlock waited eagerly.

"No nothing." John replied, flicking through all the previous pages, he kept on flicking, his eyes scanning the inky headlines. "Oh…hang on, wait." He said. Opening up the newspaper wholly; John read the headline and smirked. "I'm not sure if you'll be interested in this though Sherlock." He admitted. Sherlock impatiently leant over further and snatched the paper from him his grasp. 'CONMAN DETECTIVE SOLVES NEW CASE'

"Well, well, well." He cracked a half smile and handed John back his newspaper.

"I'd rather be Bachelor John Watson then Conman Detective." John scowled as he took up the decision to read the article. "He's unbelievable this Gently." He outstretched the paper as if to prove his eyes weren't deceiving him. "Ha- have you read this Sherlock?" Scoffing he folded the newspaper back up and leant down to take his mug of tea which rested beside his feet. Sherlock nodded.

"I've read Gently's cases before, he lacks all sense when it comes to eliminating the impossible." Sherlock began; John listened intently with a particular keen interest. Was Gently at all competition for Holmes he wondered. Though of course, John new the solid answer to that. "I'm not wasting anymore time reading his investigations." He pursed his lips and leant into his chair. John decided to finish the article however and after some time he said.

"He solves them though."

At that Sherlock was sharp to respond. "Because he waits until everything around him falls fittingly into place. That's how he's able to gain his answers." At that, Sherlock resided into his 'thinking position' and placed his palms neatly together, his eyebrows arched slightly.

"Unlike you who jumps from the deep end on the word go and protest that everyone else is wrong." John sneered

"Your choice of words is deliberate"

"Am I not allowed to say 'jump' now?"

Sherlock chuckled and returned back to the conversation. "I have my methods John."

"Don't we all know that!" John's question clearly rhetorical. "Aren't you eating today?" John raised a brow noticing the absence of his friend's breakfast.

"No."

"Even you Sherlock have to admit though, that Gently does solve his cases. And by looking at this," John said casting a glance back down at the paper. This left room for a few seconds silence. "He solves them with some flare."

"Do I not solve my cases with flare John?" Sherlock snapped through his usual flow of sarcasm. John snorted; Sherlock's eyebrows collapsed into disapproval.

"I wonder if Gently would be interested in Sherlock's guide on how to look cool for detective dummies?"

"He would if it was part of an inter-connected web!" Sherlock intercepted before John could go on. John simply chuckled to himself.

…

Kitty quickly shut the door behind herself leaving little time to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she removed her coat, practically leaving it in a heap on the floor behind her as she proceeded hurriedly to the living room. The empty house had not greeted her welcomingly. Fumbling around for the light switch she kicked off her heels, pushed back the door and headed straight for the windows. Her eyes darted left to right, then right to left as she examined the street. The secluded echo of the mantle's clock ticked alongside her heartbeat. For those seconds she could only catch shadows. They danced around her eyes, taunting and teasing her preventing her anticipated concentration.

Kitty focused on the constant flicker of the street lamps, it was their orange glow which shone down against the pavements below; the only light that the night held within its possession. Somewhere in the distance a dog began to bark and grey clouds slowly but surely drifted their way across the sky, looming over London. Breathing heavily Kitty seized the curtains taking one final look, and then with force she yanked them shut. She turned to face the room before throwing her bag onto the sofa, then collapsing onto it in a heap. Her day had been relatively disappointing she'd concluded. Scratching her head she snuggled against the nearest pillow, laying her head onto the arm of the settee. Careful not to shut her eyes she allowed her thoughts to run away with her.

…

They just didn't understand. The words formed perfectly in her mouth, in her head, in her heart, but no matter how many times she approached the past…she found that no one would listen.

It was a constant battle that she'd been fighting, not only with herself, but with everyone around her. Knowing forever that she'd be branded as the journalist who'd slept with James Moriarty, the journalist who'd published Sherlock Holmes' life story and declared him a fraud was what (deep down) haunted her. The memories of Richard Brook hung over her like a possessive shadow, moving with her every step. The past refused to leave her side and it was starting to eat away at her.

They just didn't understand, nobody understood.

Kitty Riley wasn't to blame for the unfortunate events which had taken place. She knew that, it was just that nobody else would. Sherlock Holmes surely knew, though he wasn't easily forgiving. Whenever she ventured her thoughts back to that time in her life, she could see everything. She saw how everything had been spiralling into place so subtly and so perfectly for Moriarty. Blinded by the figure of Richard Brook, Kitty had believed. Kitty believed like she'd never believed before. The problem was that she hadn't believed in Sherlock Holmes until now. But now was too late. Now wasn't going to solve anything. It was now that she needed to do something about it. Though, what was she going to do about it? Sleepless nights of tossing and turning had resulted in her decision as to what she was going to do now.

James Moriarty had used her as his personal weapon. He had never loved her. She had been his method of retrieving Sherlock Holmes. A simple technique was all she had resembled to him. The key to Sherlock Holmes. A simple piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Kitty Riley had merely been a pawn in a game of fatal chess. And if James Moriarty had not died that day, who knew what the result would have been regarding Kitty Riley. Would Richard Brook still be a character of existence? What would have become of Kitty Riley? They were all questions that would never be fully answered, questions that ran through her mind, set upon a constant loop.

Kitty was chained to her past and all she wanted was for someone to accept her. Forgive her. See her actions not as a mistake. The list was endless and nobody would accept her. She herself accepted that at least. She accepted that yes, her actions had been a mistake. Though it was only looking back at the past which made her feel that way. At the time she didn't know she was making any mistakes. Sherlock Holmes was a fake, a fraud and Richard Brook an innocent victim of Holmes' scandalous propositions. The world needed to know, Richard Brook needed to be free of James Moriarty, Kitty had finally felt love and she'd finally snatched her 'big scoop.' In the end it had boiled down to Brook's word over Holmes' and Kitty had refused to back down. Besides, she'd had proof. It was only now that Kitty regretted everything. Now that she knew the truth behind James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes.

However, forgiveness was the least of her worries; already she had consulted two detectives. One decision was a plain outright no and the other currently pending. Sherlock Holmes had made himself perfectly clear. He wanted nothing to do with her.

Dirk Gently had yet to make up his mind. Dirk was a man who had nothing to do with the case of Richard Brook and this appeared to be one turning point for Kitty Riley. A man who had not been scarred by her actions could prove to be her only sanctuary.

…

It was the sound of the phone which startled her. Raising her head from the pillow and glancing in the general direction of the noise, Kitty's previous thoughts had been abolished; her attention rested with the phone. Swinging her legs round she rose from the settee and wandered towards it. The caller was unknown then for a split second Kitty found herself staring at the window as her hand lingered over the phone. Carefully she picked it up and with her thumb, clicked the little green button. She drew a breath.

"Hello?"

"Miss Riley, Dirk Gently here, sorry to call you at such a ludicrous time of night but I'd like to take you up on that offer." The sound of Dirk Gently's voice eased her stomach and she sighed a sigh of pure relief.

"Mr Gently!" She smiled placing a hand to her stomach. "That is wonderful news. I promise I wont let you down."