If Anna Lyons was in any way afraid or perturbed by her surprise visitors, she didn't show it. In fact she seemed remarkably composed clad only in a long, white towel kindly supplied by Travel Lodge. Her hair was falling past her shoulders and her beauty, though clouded by her circumstances still remained.
"Good morning," she said calmly, "or is it afternoon, I haven't actually checked my watch."
"Hello," John said nervously, feeling a tad embarrassed at catching Anna at an inappropriate time. John noticed Sherlock wasn't similarly worried.
"It's Sherlock isn't it? And you're John?" Anna asked.
"Yes we met several months ago," John replied.
"Eight," Sherlock corrected.
"Yes, I never forget a face," said Anna lightly and she stepped aside and gestured to them to enter the room. "Just give me two minutes."
The pair were left in an identical version of their own room; all of the belongings they had sifted through were still in their bags. But the timing of their arrival was providing new evidence for Sherlock. One thing that Anna's partial nakedness had revealed was some bruising on her shoulders, little dark circles from fingers of her victim no doubt. Though the bruises weren't the deep dark purple that someone would have when skin puts pressure on skin. At the time of the attack she had been wearing at least two layers, and logic said to Sherlock that she had not intending to fight or else she would have divested with her more restrictive layers. So was the seemingly cool Anna Lyons a secret hot head?
Anna called to John from the bathroom to pass her one of the bags which he obligingly did and fought off the temptation to try and catch a slight glimpse. It appeared on his return that even Sherlock had guessed his temptation for there was a look on his face John couldn't quite fathom. John tried to shrug it off by changing the subject.
"It was quite disturbing seeing your brother just now," John said.
"He likes his surprise entrances. I'm surprised he never went on the stage."
"I'm starting to feel like a toy rabbit being pulled between two spoilt children."
"Well that's unlikely, a toy rabbit would never have interested Mycroft and certainly not me." Sherlock replied wryly.
"You know what I mean."
The bathroom door opened and Anna emerged in fitted jeans and a tank top, her hair now twisted into a messy bun and her beauty further coaxed out with mascara and lipgloss. She leaned on the table, pushing the kettle a little further up and looked at the pair.
"So, what can I do for you both?"
"You will have heard about the fire at the FlirtFetish main office two days ago?" Sherlock began.
"Yes, but only whilst I was out today, and I never know how much to believe from the papers. "
"Your also aware of the murder of FlirtFetish's manager?"
"Yes. Look… Sherlock. When I left Blitz, I didn't know what was going on. I left because it was just too damning, you can imagine what it did to my CV."
"Where have you been since then?" Sherlock asked.
"I took Henry's advice and went on holiday. We both felt we'd let our customers down, not realising that was going on under our nose, I needed a break."
"And then?"
"I rested on my laurels. You remember, Sherlock, we had a conversation once about money being one of the perks of my job. Getting a new job immediately would have been insane. I knew wherever I went people would ask about the whole thing, it was merely a coincidence. I don't want people with a morbid curiosity giving me the Spanish inquisition," Anna explained listlessly.
"Forgive me Anna, but from the accounts given by the police after your arrest you were in lowly circumstances, yet now you seem able to buy what you want now. The facts could suggest you were hiding."
"Or that I was a prostitute," she chimed sarcastically, but she gave Sherlock a small smile, realising that perhaps she wasn't helping. "I'm sorry, please ask me direct questions and I'll try and give you direct answers."
"Describe your relationship with Henry Montague?"
"Employer and once or twice lover on a slow night in the office. He was a member of the population of London with whom I knew where I stood," she replied. "We got on very well."
"Then why did you not go back to him for work, I see he's opened two restaurants?"
Anna looked at her broken fingernails and examined her hands, she let out a sigh yet her emotions didn't seem dampened.
"I knew where I was with him. But I didn't know the ins and outs of him. I've no doubt now that I was used to divert the attention from whatever he had going on. But whatever it was, I still haven't a clue."
"Did you feel threatened?" John chipped in.
"No. I count my blessings that I always felt safe."
"But to put yourself in circumstances so different from what you were accustomed to?"
"Change can be boring but it gives you something to do."
"So where have you been staying the last few months?"
"I have been outstayingmy welcome with various friends with sofas."
Anna looked at Sherlock, for the first time she knew that he didn't believe what she'd just said and for some reason she felt inclined to be assertive if she couldn't bring herself to be truthful.
"Sherlock, John," Anna said with firmness to her voice. "My reasons, if you would be so kind as to appreciate them, are my reasons. They are in no way linked to what happened, all that was merely a springboard for me to do something else with my life."
There was a pause, it was a respectful one. Sherlock could tell she was not withholding anything on this point, nothing about her body or voice suggested she was lying.
"Anna, do you have any reason to believe that the fire and murder could be linked?" Sherlock asked finally, their eyes locking together.
"I expect they will be, but I really don't know how. But I think Henry would be worth speaking to."
"He's on a stag weekend in Prague," John said and Anna smiled.
"There's something amusing about that?" Sherlock asked, almost smiling himself.
"I'm sure you can imagine."
"I would still be interested to hear your view," Sherlock replied, surprising John. Apart from John himself and Lestrade, Sherlock was completely disinterested in people's opinions.
"Henry doesn't do binge drinking whilst indulging sucks and fucks with prostitutes in kinky hotels. We both speak the same language in that sense."
"Anna, you said direct answers," Sherlock said with a hint of sarcasm.
"We both like sex on our terms. And neither of us could be bothered with all that frippery. Henry for a start is so apathetic to anything that isn't money. I'm sorry to put it in such a clichéd way but there it is."
Sherlock could not think of any other reason to remain with Anna at this point, he was gratified she had likely exposed the rouse of Henry Montague's convenient absence.
"Anna, you need to either remain here or let Detective Inspector Lestrade know your address. We may need to contact you again."
Sherlock moved towards the door but Anna stopped him and put out her hand.
"It was nice to see you again Mr Holmes, astute and impolite as always," she said jokingly, the remark won her a fleeting bit of eye contact before he left the room. John however lingered a few moments, trying to make up any social grace lacking in Sherlock's departure.
"You look rather tired John. But, remarkably sane," she said mildly putting out her hand to him, he took it willingly.
"So do you." They both laughed.
"Take care of yourself," she said gently. "Not that I know you that well but…"
"You too."
John knew better than to linger and Anna was thinking about the shower she was deprived of. They parted with a smile. As John walked back to 'their' room he started to wonder how all of this fitted together.