The museum was noisy and cramped.
Sherlock Holmes was just short of running around like a child in a candy store, looking at every exhibit in turn, examining them carefully before scampering off to the next one. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Katherine, on the other hand, was not.
If fact, she was bored out of her mind. None of this was really new to her, considering that she had been there for the first unveilings of a majority of the exhibits. Science had never been a priority for her, but she knew more about it than most gave her credit for. She wasn't stupid; she recognized that science was the future.
And the key to staying alive long enough to see said future was to know and expect what would come with it.
She wasn't completely the materialistic bitch Damon had her painted as after all.
Katherine sharply shook her head.
Slightly disgusted at the thoughts of Damon invading her mind, she walked over to a large blown-up photograph of a man with a thin mustache and the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.
"Nikola Tesla." Sherlock said as he stepped beside her.
"I know." Katherine told him, turning her head to look at him.
She felt her annoyance levels rise to what she liked to call the *DANGER ZONE* as the consulting detectives' eyes zero in on her forehead.
"Stop doing that!" Katherine snapped.
"Stop doing what?" Sherlock teased, keeping his gaze locked on her forehead.
"You know what! What do you even think you're going to see?"
Sherlock shrugged. Katherine growled silently.
"Nothing has changed since the last time you looked!"
The detective blinked in surprise, his startlingly blue eyes meeting her brown ones for the first time….ever, Katherine realized.
"That's exactly right….." Sherlock mumbled, narrowing his eyes.
"What's exactly right?" Katherine asked, suddenly lost.
Was he agreeing with her?
"Nothing has changed….." Sherlock continued.
He was!
Katherine suddenly felt slightly worried. Had he been drugged or something when she wasn't looking?
His face turned so thoughtful that Katherine was starting to fear for her own safety, too.
Great, Katherine thought dryly.
He's going to die from a self-induced aneurism and Mycroft is still going to try and kill me.
The thought of Sherlock most powerful and reliable weapon, his mind, being the thing that killed him struck Katherine as morbidly funny.
Clearing her throat, Katherine tried to change the subject.
"So…. What do you know about Nikola Tesla?" She asked, jerking her thumb toward the photo.
Sherlock blinked and straightened up, adjusting his scarf.
"Nikola Tesla, inventor, electrical engineer, mechanical engineer, physicist and futurist. Best known for his contributions to the design to the of today's alternating electrical supply system,"
Katherine raised her eyebrows as Sherlock continued.
"Born on July tenth, eighteen fifty-six in what is no modern day Croatia, Tesla died alone, impoverished and in debt in room 3327 of the New York Hotel on January seventh, nineteen forty-three at eighty-six years old."
Katherine shook her head in reluctant awe and looked back at the picture.
"Stupid way to die," She told Sherlock.
"Yes," He agreed. "But there are worse ways. Like Iranian torture; that is actually quite painful."
Katherine laughed.
"Yeah, I'll bet,"
"What about you?" Sherlock asked.
"Do you have any dumb ways to die that you'd like to share?"
Katherine thought for a moment.
"Self-sacrifice," She said slowly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Dying for love," Katherine said her mind suddenly one hundred and forty-eight years in the past.
"I once heard a story about these two brothers who fell in love with the same girl-"
"What no vampires or werewolves?" Sherlock asked, joking.
Katherine laughed, a little uneasy.
"No werewolves, no," She told him shrugging. "Do you want to hear the story, or what?"
Sherlock nodded once. "Please continue."
Katherine took a deep breath, looking back at the memory.
"Where was I? Oh yes, two brothers, one girl. Everything was well and good until one day; the brother's father had the girl arrested. I can't remember why, but I'm sure it was something stupid. Anyway, the brothers banded together to save the girl they loved."
"What happened?"
"They died," Katherine blinked, bringing herself back to the present.
"In the end, love is no mach for a gun."
Sherlock thought over the story for a moment. Finally, he looked back over at her.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, already moving toward the doors.
"Uh, just a little thirsty." Katherine admitted truthfully, walking beside him.
"Good, because I saw a Chinese place down the block. Early dinner."
Katherine looked down at her watch.
"It's Three thirty in the afternoon."
Sherlock shrugged, pushing the doors open and stepping into the cool London day.
"Yes, well, that's why it's an early dinner then."
Katherine shrugged, seeing no point in arguing. They walked in silence for a few moments.
"She could've stopped it." Sherlock said suddenly. Seeing the confused look on her face, he clarified:
"The girl in your story. She could've saved at least one of the brothers."
Katherine stopped walking.
"How?"
Sherlock stopped walking and turned to face her.
"All she had to do was choose."
Katherine shook her head.
"But then the one she didn't choose would've hated her."
"But at least he'd have lived. Love kills, as has been proven time and time again."
Sherlock continued walking.
Katherine rushed to catch up with him.
"Have you ever been in love?"
Sherlock kept walking.
They continued on in silence until they reached the restaurant doors.
Sherlock opened the doors for her. Sherlock turned his head to look out at the London street.
Good-bye Mr. Holmes.
"Caring is not an advantage." He told the memory before following Katherine into the restaurant.
James Moriarty watched Sherlock walked into the restaurant.
The consulting criminal felt an odd, yet not uncommon feeling stir inside him.
Jealousy.
It was bad enough that he had to compete with John, but a girl just wasn't acceptable.
"So many ways to die in London town, honey," He sang to himself.
"We just need to find you the right one."
But not just yet. No, it wasn't time yet.
The fall was only just beginning.
But don't worry, he told himself against the wave of frustration and morbid disappointment.
She'll be gone before Sherlock hits the ground.