"Sorry, what?" John asked, slightly confused.
"She offered to help us with Moriarty," Sherlock said, amazed by his friend's cluelessness.
John nodded, still unsure of the whole situation. There had been some strange people coming through in the last few months, but none of them had offered to helped them with anything. Rather, the clients had always asked for their help. It was odd that someone would come in here, offering to help stop Jim Moriarty.
"Umm," Jane said, getting up from her chair, "Do you mind if I use your restroom?"
"Down the hall to the left," John said, nodding pointing towards the right hallway. She smiled and thanked them, then proceeded to walk down the hall.
"Alright, Sherlock," John said, "Why is she really here?"
"I told you," Sherlock said, quickly and indifferently, "She offered to help with Moriarty."
"There's something you're not telling me. Who is she?"
"Her name is Jane."
"Jane who?" John asked, his temper rising.
Sherlock sighed, "Jane Moriarty."
John tried to say something, but nothing came to mind. Finally, after a while of trying to speak, only words that came out were, "You're joking."
"No, I'm not," Sherlock said in that same indifference. His voice hadn't risen throughout this entire conversation. It was as though he had planned it through before John had walked through the door. And John wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case.
"How can we trust her?" John said, lowering his voice so the woman in the loo wouldn't hear, "How can we...how is she related to him? Is she his wife? What exactly is she to him?"
"Sister," Sherlock said, "Twin sister."
"Twin? Well, isn't that nice? You're going to have Moriarty's sister help us? Do you realize that you're taking the advice of the woman whose brother almost tried to kill us in an abandoned swimming pool?!"
"What choice do we have?" Sherlock said, quietly, "Nothing else has worked."
"We'll do what we've always done!" John said, "We'll figure something out on our own! Solve cases, find leads, lay low for a while."
"Doing what we have been doing hasn't been working," Sherlock said, "And besides, she's the best lead we have."
"Just like that," John huffed, "You're willing to trust this girl just like that? Just because you think she can bring you Moriarty in chains?"
"Yes," Sherlock said, "I do trust her. Not completely, but enough."
John stared at him incredulously. Finally, after a few moments had passed, he spoke.
"You're a bloody idiot, you know that?"
Sherlock smirked as he saw Jane walk into the main room with his peripheral vision. He watched as she sat down in one of the chairs facing the two men. She gave them a nervous smile and brushed some of her hair out of her face. Her eyes gravitated to the ground when John glared at her. The tension in the room was thick. It seemed that the harder John would glare at Jane, the more interested she became in the pattern of the carpeting. It wasn't until John had decided to go to his room that Jane became a bit more relaxed.
"You'll have to excuse my colleague," Sherlock said, sitting in the chair across from hers, "Our last run in with your brother was rather unpleasant."
Jane smirked, "Jim does tend to have that effect on people."
Sherlock smiled, then grew serious, "So...the plan that your brother said he had in mind?"
She sighed, "Like I said, he didn't say much. He said that he was going to destroy you. He didn't say how, or why for that matter, just that it was very long and intricate."
"Anything else?"
"He said that...after he was finished with you...that he'd bring me down, too," she said slowly. There was no fear in her voice, which was slightly surprising to Sherlock. He figured that she would show more emotion than what she has. Maybe she was more like Sherlock than he had thought.
"Why you?"
"I don't know. He's always resented me. Even when we were kids. I never fully understood why, and I still don't."
Sherlock closed his eyes and drew his fingertips to his mouth, "Do you know where he is?"
"Not at the moment, but," she said, pulling out something from her pocket, "he did mail me this." She placed it in front of Sherlock.
He picked up the small envelope. He pulled out a picture of three children standing with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. There was a girl on the left, with her hair falling freely across her face, a boy in the middle, who seemed to be the oldest out of them, and a boy on the right, with short hair and dark eyes. They were standing in front of a rather large house, but it looked as though they were in their backyard. He assumed that this was a picture of the Moriarty children, with Jane and Jim on either side of their eldest brother. It almost surprised him, seeing Jim Moriarty as a child. He could hardly picture Moriarty being a carefree child, and it was a little off putting to see him like that.
He was more surprised, however, by the small hole burned in the photograph, almost exactly where the girl's heart would be.
He put the photograph back in the envelope and handed it to her. She placed it back in her pocket. Sherlock felt sympathetic to her, or, at least something close to sympathy.
"Other than the photograph, has your brother tried to contact you in any way?"
She shook her head, "No. That's the most recent. I received it a little over a week or so ago."
"What made you decide to come to me?" Sherlock asked. The question had been gnawing at him for a while, and he felt now was as good of time as any to ask.
"I figured that maybe, if we worked together, it might just be enough to keep him behind bars," she said.
Sherlock nodded. He thought he heard John's door open and shut, and he heard the sound of his footsteps. He felt John glaring at the two of them as he passed, and he hoped that he would give them some privacy. John was just about to say something when Sherlock's phone rang. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket and answered the call.
"Ah. Hello, Lestrade," Sherlock said, getting up. He walked down the hall that John had just came out of, hoping to get a little privacy.
Jane glanced at the floor, and when she looked up, she saw John sitting where Sherlock, until moments ago, had been sitting.
"Alright, Miss Moriarty," the man said, leaning in menacingly, "I don't care that you've convinced Sherlock into believing your little story. I don't care that you made him believe that you're the victim in all of this. I don't even care that you're still trying to play the victim to me. But if you're planning on gaining our trust and then selling us out or...or betraying us in any way, you'd better hope that your brother gets to you first because I will show no mercy. So, if you are planning something, and you're not here doing what you say you're doing, you best walk out that door right now and never come back, because I will never forgive you if you harm Sherlock and I, and I will not rest until you've gotten what you deserve. Do you understand?"
Jane looked in his eyes. They were cold, but yet heated and angry at the same time. They were both calm and full of rage, emotionless yet full of repulsion. And all of this emotion was directed towards her. It terrified her, knowing that someone could be this sickened by her, just because she had the same parents as Jim Moriarty.
Jane didn't say anything, hoping that that would pass as an answer.
"Good," John said, getting up, "Glad we're on the same page."
Just then, Sherlock walked into the sitting room. Jane turned her gaze to Sherlock, trying to ignore the fact that John was still staring at her.
"John, Jane. Grab your coats," Sherlock said, walking across the room to grab his scarf.
"Why?" John asked, as Sherlock quickly looped his scarf around his neck.
"That was Lestrade," Sherlock said, who was now heading towards the door to retrieve his overcoat, "He says he's got a murder he wants me in on. He says that Moriarty might be involved."
"Why is she coming?" John asked. Jane felt the acidity that John placed in the word "she", but she didn't know if Sherlock had caught it or not
"Because we need her," Sherlock said, his hand placed on the door, "Now come on."
John sighed and grabbed his coat. He quickly put it on and walked out the door that Sherlock was currently holding open.
Jane, too, got up from her chair and grabbed her coat. As she walked downstairs to the cab she hoped that working with Sherlock Holmes would go a lot smoother than what this morning had.