Back at 221B, the men made sure Katrina was as comfortable as possible on the sofa, and gave her painkillers, water, blankets - the lot. John wasn't entirely keen on letting her ride out her injuries without going to A&E, but the woman was still rather insistent on staying there. She absolutely refused to go to a hospital, because she didn't particularly fancy explaining how she got into her plight in the first place.
After an annoying amount of back and forth to which Sherlock ended up having to put a stop to, surprisingly, John retired to his bedroom upstairs, leaving the detective with Katrina. He eyed her curiously from his armchair, uncertain about what the correct social protocol was to a situation like this.
"Will you go into work tomorrow?" he asked her. Katrina rolled onto her side so that she could face him.
"No. Currently my body is protesting against everything I want to do, and I think it's gonna be worse in the morning."
"Fine."
"Have you got a problem with that? Sorry, but I thought I was going to die tonight and I didn't want to stay in my own home. I couldn't stay there."
"We could have taken you to a hotel as you asked." Sherlock shrugged and stood up, making Katrina scoff and roll her eyes. "But since you wouldn't go to A&E, John was your next best bet."
"Whatever then. Good night, Sherlock."
He gave hurt a curt nod before making his way through the kitchen to his bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible when he got there.
The detective sat down on the bed and mulled over the evening's events. Everything was beginning to fall into place, he had reason to believe - the only thing that didn't make sense was Moriarty. Why would somebody steal from him? Why did he want it back so badly? Surely if a criminal such as him had an empire of sorts, what need did he have for such a tiny diamond? Sherlock thought it would have been an inconsequential item to the napoleon of crime, but apparently not.
Odd how the man himself was willing to have an assassin kill someone for it. It didn't seem like Moriarty - he liked to play games - unless of course this was just part of a long game that Sherlock couldn't see all the players for yet. Unless Katrina was now going to be a player. Who knew?
The detective snapped out of his thoughts for a moment as he realised that tomorrow he and John were going to have to explain Moriarty to Katrina, as she had practically demanded them to do so earlier on. The fact that she was able to find out a piece of information like that so quickly was… useful, to say the least, as well as dangerous.
Sherlock had no doubt in his mind that at some point Mycroft would come calling about this, and was surprised he hadn't already tried. Although thinking about Big Brother would ultimately summon him, so Sherlock was not going to wait in anticipation until he popped up.
Goodness, the urge to play the violin was rather strong right now, but he knew that he couldn't exactly do that. John was used it, Katrina would not appreciate it in the slightest and may ultimately fly off the handle at him. He wasn't in the mood for that, if he was honest. Sherlock already disliked the idea of Katrina being on their sofa for the night, and disliked the idea of her being pissed off even more.
He sighed and kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, opting to lie down on top of his bed. There was no telling if Sherlock would sleep tonight, not with the amount running through his head at this current moment in time. He did shit his eyes in an attempt to calm the cogs in his head, and admittedly it did help - how much it would help, he didn't know.
Half asleep and half awake, Sherlock was able to rest at the very least.
He must have drifted off at some point, because something woke him up - the sound on someone vomiting at about eight in the morning. Sherlock sighed deeply, knowing it was Katrina. It was probably to do with her injuries, and that didn't shock him.
Soon enough the sounds subsided and he sat up, listening to the woman wash out her mouth then go potter about in the kitchen hunting for a glass, and apparently the bread. He heard the toaster go off a few minutes later, so he decided to go and investigate properly.
Sherlock found Katrina on the sofa nibbling at a slice of toast with the glass of water by her feet. She looked rough - purple bruising decorating her neck and jaw, and she was unable to hold her head up properly as if it were too heavy. Must have been quite a whack.
"I've already called in sick. Told the HR lady I got jumped on my way home, and now everyone in the department is texting me… I'm ignoring it for the time being," she told him. "I need answers from you and John first, and we're going to figure out what to do."
"That was the plan." Sherlock gave her a look that suggested she was being stupid. "Do keep your vomiting down next time."
"Apologies, your highness," Katrina replied sarcastically.
"That would be my brother…" he muttered. She frowned, but didn't question it and carried on eating. A few moments later, John came into the living room fully dressed and his hair still damp.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked,
"I threw up." Katrina set the plate down on the coffee table so she could have some of her water. "Standing up wasn't the best idea this morning… I'll be alright. Now… neither of you answered my question last night."
"Straight to it, I guess…" Sherlock said, sitting in the blue armchair while John went to the red one.
"Who's Jim Moriarty? Not much came up on him, but it didn't look good."
Sherlock sighed. "Quite possibly the most clever criminal to ever exist. He's bad news, and it's even worse for you if he's trying kill you."
"How about we avoid that and give him back the diamond?"
"We have to draw him out."
"He has an assassin after me, I think he's getting close to being drawn out from wherever he's lurking." Katrina went back to munching on her toast after that.
"Then what do you propose?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.
"Nothing. I have a question for you: what are the chances that he'd contact me because I've managed to evade Moran twice now?" she countered.
The detective frowned. "Quite high… but how would he get in contact with you?"
"For a start, I have a twitter. Secondly, Moran's been to my flat twice. Bets I've been bugged?"
"Oh - oh, of course! He'd want you to notice that wouldn't he?" Sherlock was beginning to get quite excited, much to the chagrin of John who couldn't help but take a deep breath. Katrina seemed to be into it, on the other hand, and grabbed her coat from the other end of the sofa, slipping her hand into the pocket. Lo and behold, she pulled out a tiny wireless microphone.
"How? Just how could you know that he'd bug you?" John was shocked, to say the least.
"You know, this is kinda fun. I'm not about the fact I could get killed for a diamond, but bouncing ideas off of you is great," Katrina remarked. "Think I should say my phone number out loud?"
"Please do," Sherlock smirked, and John looked between the pair thoroughly confused.
"Is this foreplay for clever people?!" he cried out before Katrina could even speak. She ignored him as did Sherlock, and proceeded to say her mobile number out loud before crushing the mic with a heavy book on the coffee table.
About two minutes later her phone rang and she happily picked it up.
"I shouldn't be this excited to talk to the man who currently wants to kill me, but considering how I managed to figure out you bugged me, I have to say that you are incredibly over the top," she said.
"Ah. Katrina Ann Jenkins. Pleasure to finally talk. You have something of mine, don't you?"
"Ooh. Irish. I do indeed. Would you like it back? I'd rather be rid of it so I don't get killed."
"Hmmm. Yes please," he sounded far too flirtatious to be acceptable, and Katrina made a fake gagging motion.
"When and where?"
"I'll text you the details, don't particularly want to risk the boys overhearing. If they come, I'll get Moran to shoot you! Ta ta!"
He hung up, and Katrina pocketed her phone appearing thoroughly bemused and concerned at the same time. Sherlock and John were looking at her rather expectantly.
"He's going to text me the details because he doesn't want you two knowing," she said after a moment.
"Did he threaten to shoot you?" Sherlock asked.
"Yep. I trust you'll both follow me to wherever I need to meet him regardless?"
"Yeah, we're not gonna let you go near Moriarty alone," John pointed out.
"Slightly patronising way of putting it, but I get what you mean." Katrina went back to her water after that, wincing as she drank it. Her head still hurt like hell, and the doctor in the room knew it too. "Got anything stronger than ibuprofen, Dr. Watson?" she turned her attention to him.
"My god, you're a walking disaster, aren't you?" was all he could say in response. "Perfect to be hanging out with that one over there." He shook his head and rose, making his way into the kitchen, leaving Katrina frowning after him.
"I take it that's a no then?"
"Don't mind him, he just wishes you'd gone to A&E," Sherlock said. "He's gone to get you an ice pack."
He was right about that, because John came and rudely tossed it at Katrina who just about managed to catch it and place it to the back of her head. She sighed in relief - the coolness of it felt good. Her phone then buzzed, and the two men stared at her.
"That'll be my appointment with death," she muttered. "I'll have a look later, because I really want to vomit again and I really think I should have gone to A&E."
John looked like he was about to lose the will to live.
"What makes you say that?"
"I think there's blood on the back of my head. It's also throbbing."
"How are you a functioning adult?" he sighed, going to get his shoes and coat. "Come on."
Trying to get into a rhythm/schedule of updating this! Thanks for the favourites/follows as well.
Comment?
-OL
