Cursing Sherlock mentally, Melanda stands in the queue outside the popular nightclub shivering. Oh, certainly, she was aware that not wearing a coat would make her look more appealing, and catch the eye of the suspects easier, but it was bloody cold! Looking around her, she quickly sees one of the men from Sherlock's photos standing about 15 people behind her in the queue before she quickly spots Sherlock and John. Catching the detective's eye briefly, she continues to look around, so as to not appear as though she knows the man who will most likely cause some form of havoc during the night. Of course, both residents of 221b were dressed warmly, Sherlock in his warm coat over his customary suit, matched with his navy scarf, John in his jeans, a jumper and jacket. The red head couldn't feel a bit of contempt towards them as she hugs herself, trying to ignore the night's chill.
Finally, she gets to the end of the line, faced with burning looking man who grabs her id harshly, looking it over before gruffly handing it back, stamping her hand harshly with the picture of a red frog, the words Devil's Croak written around it. The balding man almost shoving her aside to deal with the next person. Putting on a fake smile, Melanda walks into the dimly lit room making her way straight to the bar and orders herself a fruity cocktail. Finding herself a spot, she remains there, slowly sipping the obnoxiously pink liquid, watching in the reflection of the bottles for Sherlock and John to enter. When they do, she starts to drink more quickly, desperately wishing she could have a proper drink, preferably a glass of scotch or wine, but continuing the act of a frilly, stupid young woman, she had to play every part of the role, and that included drinking sweet, feminine drinks.
Ordering another drink, this time a shot of vanilla flavored vodka, Melanda starts the show. Sitting by herself, she starts to smile in a slightly crooked way, swaying slightly before correcting herself after downing the shot, she vaguely notices one of the suspects watching her closely. She smiles in his direction, making him raise his glass of beer in recognition.
A feeling of warmth passes her, and she knows Sherlock has just walked behind her, his silent way of encouraging the acting. With a slightly sloppy wink towards the graying man opposite her, she orders another drink from the barman, this time going back to the feminine cocktails. Playing with the straw with her tongue, she mentally berates Sherlock, disgusting with herself, even though she was acting. However, her sluttish move pays off as the man walks towards her, sitting in the seat next to her.
"Hey there, gorgeous," the man starts, obviously testing the waters.
"Hey there yourself" she giggles back.
Taking it as an encouragement, the tanned man places a hand on her thigh, moving in closer. "Now, what is s beautiful thing like you doing all by yourself?" he says in a sly voice.
Leaning in towards him, she whispers back, "I'm waiting to find someone to change that" before loosing balance and falling into him slightly, giggling as she does so.
She had definitely got his attention, and there was every chance he was the person responsible, so she kept acting, appearing more drunk by the minute. She was safe as long as Sherlock was there, she reassures herself, and seeing him across the bar, watching both her and the man beside her as well as another potential suspect across the room, she knew she was fine.
Melanda is ripped away from her calming thoughts as the man's hand rises up her thigh, as he whispers into her ear. "How 'bout we get out of here, hmm? Find somewhere a bit more... Private" his hand moves further up her thigh.
Holding back a grimace, and trying not to punch the man, she plays along. "Sounds like a plan" she smiles, grabbing her purse and standing up. The man places his hand on the middle of her back, guiding her out of the club. Squashing her fear, she leans into his touch as they leave the club and head toward where his car is supposedly parked.
Walking down a deserted alleyway, the man pulls her by the arm abruptly, tugging her into a wall before starting to kiss her neck. This was wrong, thought Melanda, he wasn't silencing her like the killer had.
"Stop" she mutters, but he keeps going, pushing her roughly into the wall, his erection prominently pushing into her thigh. The man responds by placing a hand over her mouth. She tries to move away, but he grabs her again, pushing her once more into the brick wall behind her. But still, there is no knife. She wiggles out of the grasp of his hand, saying, more confidently "stop!" but the man continues, putting his hand over her mouth once more as he undos his fly, pushing her dress up.
"I believe she told you to stop" Sherlock's deep baritone calls from behind the man. Turning, shocked, the graying man meets Sherlock's fist with a swift punch, causing him to fall to the ground. Facing Melanda, with no care to the man laying between them, he asks in a soft voice, "are you alright?"
The redhead nods, briefly, stepping over the man before shaking her head, clearing her thoughts. "Well, he's not our guys" she starts somewhat shakily. "Just some would be rapist" she shrugs.
Sherlock nods, not taking his eyes off her, checking to make sure she remains unharmed. "John," he calls out, "get Lestrade to fix this mess. I'm taking Melanda home."
Nodding, John grabs his phone, calling the police detective and informing him of the location of the rapist, not bothering to check his vitals.
Taking Melanda's arm, Sherlock pulls off his coat, placing it carefully over her shoulders and walking her away towards the main street, leaving John puzzled once more. Sure, they knew one another when growing up, that he could understand, but he had never seen Sherlock so... caring... Expect perhaps with Mrs Hudson. But this was different, he thought, watching the two enter a taxi and leave him behind to deal with the mess.
A/N: So, there's chapter four. As per usual, I don't own anything :)
Review, if you want, that would be awesome :)