A/N: For this chapter, the setting of the ball scene is a real building: The Rivoli Ballroom Club in London. There are photos of it up on Google if you which to see what the main ballroom hall looks like.
And this is the music they danced to: watch?v=SPYa60mRik8
I hope you enjoy this chapter! ^-^
"It's a dance, Sherlock."
It's been four days since Steven White's court meeting and Sherlock hasn't felt more stressed. Although he never said it. Another court meeting was booked in January as they never got to the bottom of White's sentence. So far he was neither guilty nor innocent seeing as the whole court was split in half with what they believed. Despite Sherlock's and June's argument about how much of a fraud he is, and the clique he's part of, none of the jury's seemed to believe them. When John stood up to get his word across, he was ordered to sit down, hold his tongue and only speak when asked which in that case, he wasn't. Shortly after, the case was closed for the time being as the judge was fed up and demanded to return to it in the New Year.
Sherlock didn't sleep nearly every night as he was up trying to pick out what was wrong. The whole Timothy Lawrence case was dragging on for far too long. All Sherlock had to do was find him again with the police and arrest him before he kills anyone else. But as the days went by, everything seemed to be easier said than done. Timothy could be anywhere for all he knew.
The night of the court meeting, June couldn't sleep out of frustration and climbed out of bed to pour herself a glass of water. On the way to the kitchen, she found Sherlock sitting in a wooden chair at the table in the sitting room, wearing a purple shirt and black trousers. He was slumped forward, arms resting on the table and his chin resting on his arms. His eyes were wide open as he stared across the table at the wall opposite. It was a bitterly cold winter's night and June found herself shivering as she left her warm bed. She couldn't imagine how cold Sherlock must've felt as he stayed up all night long. With a sigh, June turned and walked back into her bedroom. She came back carrying a cream coloured cotton throw, which she had sitting at the end of her bed to keep her feet warm. Unfolding the throw, she placed it round Sherlock's shoulders, covering his neck and tucking the ends in the gap between his back and the back of the chair. Squeezing both his shoulders, she leaned down and kissed him on the temple and to her surprise Sherlock placed his stone cold hand on top of hers. Other than that, he was completely unresponsive.
The next four days passed by very slowly and soon it was New Year's Eve. Just like both Steven and Mycroft offered, Sherlock, John and June were attending the public ball that night. John had gone to visit his girlfriend, Tracey, whom he was attending the ball with. Sherlock agreed to go with June and suggested that they would keep a low profile. To Sherlock, it was a good opportunity to find Timothy. They had made a plan with Mycroft and Lestrade in hope for peace at the end of the night. Lestrade had informed everyone at Scotland Yard of the plan and the police would be there to back them up if needed.
June was in Mrs Hudson's room getting ready. June had spent her last few pennies from her old job to buy herself a new corset dress to wear at the ball. While she sat at the dressing table in Mrs Hudson's bedroom, looking into the oval-shaped mirror as she applied her make-up, Mrs Hudson stood by her side talking excitedly about her past memories as a young teenager when she would go out.
"It's strange," She said. "Sherlock has never been fond of any sort of public events. Nor is he one to go to something like this and properly dress up for," She sighed and looked at June. "He must really like you if he's taking you out to this ball."
June frowned and looked at Mrs Hudson, but before she could say anything in protest, Mrs Hudson clasped her hands together and smiled broadly.
"It's so romantic!" She exclaimed before walking across the bedroom.
June smiled to herself as she turned and continued to apply the rest of her make-up. Mrs Hudson sat on the end of her bed and watched June as she applied some red lipstick to her lips.
"I've known Sherlock for a fair few years now and even that first week he rented this apartment is still quite fuzzy in my memory. All I can remember is having a regular visit from the police and I found myself making everyone tea that first week. I don't think neither John nor Sherlock remember that I'm not their housekeeper."
June stood up. "Do I look okay?" She asked.
Mrs Hudson smiled briefly as she pushed herself off her bed, licked the tip of her thumb and gingerly rubbed under June's eye, removing any small smudges. She then took a step back. "Beautiful." She replied.
They walked out the room to joined Sherlock who was waiting by the front door. Leaning against the wall with her hands clasped in front of him, Sherlock was wearing a black suit, white shirt and a black tie. He froze the moment he saw June and half smiled at her. He then opened the door and let her out first.
"Have a lovely time!" Mrs Hudson called and then the front door closed.
Sherlock opened the door of the taxi that was waiting for them and again, allowed June to get in first. The taxi took them through the busy streets of London. The ball was held in the main ballroom at the Rivoli, in Brockley Road on the other side of the River Themes. From the outside, the place looked rather small and June wondered how many would be attending the ball.
Once the taxi reached the top of the road, they had to wait in line with all the other cars, taxi's and limousine's that stopped at the entrance as people climbed out. By the front door were photographers and journalists that questioned the people who arrived. Many ignored them, posed for photos and walked through the double doors. June suddenly felt very nervous at the look of the huge crowd of people standing outside the doors.
"I wonder if John is already there." June said, trying to cover the shakiness in her voice. Sherlock didn't respond but continued to stare out the window. It wasn't until they were three cars away from the front door that Sherlock spoke.
"When we get out," He began. "I want you to hold onto my arm and not to let go. Even when we get inside."
June nodded. "And what about the journalists outside?" She pondered.
"Just ignore them," He replied and then smiled. "Or just tell them to piss off if needs be." Both Sherlock and June sniggered at this.
When it was down to the last car, Sherlock turned his head to look at June. It was a few seconds before June turned and looked back at Sherlock.
"You ready?" He asked.
June pursed her lips before nodding.
The taxi pulled forward and it was their turn to get out. One of the door men, dressed smartly in a black, red and gold jacket reached for the door handle and opened the car door. There was a moment of silence as the journalists and photographers craned their necks to have a look at who turned up. Once Sherlock stepped out, there was a rush of excitement, followed by different voices calling out to him and a series of white flashes from the cameras.
June felt like she was blinded by the flashing lights but managed to take the doorman's white gloved hand and step out the taxi. Sherlock was stood by her side and as they walked up the red carpet to the front double doors, Sherlock slipped his hand into June's and squeezed, before she could grab hold of his arm.
June stared at the large red sign across the front of the building saying "RIVOLI BALLROOM CLUB' before glancing at the clock hanging above the doors. It was getting close to eight that evening and the cold winter air bit at their skin.
Sherlock ignored all the voices from the people surrounding them calling out to him, asking him what he thought about the serial killer, who his girl was, had he caught the serial killer and where was John. Quickly enough, they reached the front door and another doorman smiled gleefully as he took hold of the gold handle and pulled the door open with ease. Sherlock nodded to the man before they stepped inside.
The first room was the foyer which was empty. On the walls hung signs pointing to where the ballroom, bar and toilets were. With narrowed eyes, Sherlock scanned the room and sniffed a few times. His hand was still holding onto June's, their fingers intertwined and June could feel her palms becoming quite sweaty. They had to pass through another set of double doors and a hallway before they reached the ballroom. The music was heard in the foyer. The hallway they entered wasn't long. The carpet was a deep red colour. The top half of the walls were a pale yellow colour and the bottom half was oak panelled. They both walked down and glanced through the arch windows into the large, busy ballroom which was filled with hundreds of people.
"Sherlock!"
They both stopped walking and saw Mycroft standing in a grey suit, beside the main entrance.
Sherlock sighed and walked towards him.
"I almost feel proud that you even turned up," He said before turning to June. "And the lovely June Lawrence." He gave her a knowing, accusing look as he gingerly took her free hand and pressed his lips to it.
"Have you seen him?" Sherlock demanded as he let go of June to stand by one of the arch windows, looking into the ballroom.
"Who?"
"Steven White."
Mycroft sighed. "Not yet. He doesn't seem to be on the dance floor. I'm guessing he hasn't arrived yet. Neither has Timothy Lawrence."
June tried to supress a shudder every time Mycroft glanced at her knowingly. A waiter opened the glass arch door, holding a round silver tray with a dozen glasses sitting on top.
"Champagne?" He asked his voice loud and clear.
Both Mycroft and Sherlock paused a moment as they stared at each other.
"Don't mind if I do." June answered and she stepped in between them to pick up a glass off the tray. She watched Sherlock as she took a sip of the drink.
Mycroft raised his eyebrows and let out a loud sigh as he pattered down the front of his blazer. "Well I guess I should get started then," He said. "John is already in there. He's sitting down somewhere." With that he turned and followed the waiter into the ballroom. The door closed behind him. Sherlock turned to peep through the window and spotted John sitting by a round table with two women – one was Tracey and the other had her back to him – and Lestrade who was dressed in a black suit and bow tie.
"Are you ready?" June asked as she stood by Sherlock's side, resting the glass to her lips and looking through the window.
"I'm just wondering if your brother would turn up. We can't exactly do anything until he does."
June looked at him. "We can get ready. Make sure our plan is all prepared out and that nothing will falter."
Sherlock sighed. "I told you this idea is going to be dangerous. I'd prefer you to be back at the apartment."
June laughed. "Yeah and you won't be getting rid of me Sherlock," She stated. "I'm not going to lose you."
"You won't lose me, June. I've got nothing to run from. Just need to run to our serial killer."
Timothy's voice continued to echo through June's mind, reminding her that he wanted to kill Sherlock. She took in a deep breath as she took another gulp of champagne. Sherlock, who kept his eyes on the back of the woman's head, moved behind June and muttered something along the lines of them going inside to sit with John but because his voice was so low, she didn't quite hear what he said. Instead she drained the last of her drink and followed him inside the ballroom.
There was a real buzz of excitement in the ballroom as hundreds of people were on the dance floor, dancing with their partners and many more were sitting at the round tables on the outskirts of the hall, laughing, chatting, drinking and watching the dancers. Everyone seemed so happy and content in their environment.
Sherlock strode across the hall, a little in front of June, towards the table at the other side of the hall. John was the first one to spot them. A look of concern passed his face as he glanced at the woman with her back to Sherlock. He took another sip of his drink before standing up. Lestrade also noticed Sherlock and stood up, chuckling.
"You know I've always wanted to see Mr Holmes looking so uncomfortable at an event like this!" He exclaimed as he patted Sherlock on the back. Sherlock continued to glare at the table as Mycroft and Tracie also laughed. John let out a forced laughter to help break the uneasy tension.
Sherlock's eyes then shifted to the woman with her back to him. "Miss Adler." He called softly.
Irene turned in her seat to face Sherlock, her lips curling upwards into a smile. He hair was done up like she used to have and she wore a long, white dress that covered her legs and arms but showed off her thin figure. "Mr Holmes," She stood up. "Pleasure to see you again." She took his hand and shook.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes as they looked at one another for what felt like a long while. "What are you doing here?" Sherlock's voice was low.
Irene sighed as she released her hand from Sherlock's. "Mycroft called telling me about a serial killer and wondered if I'd like to help out. I'd love to, was my answer. Your friend is related to a serial killer and you need help seeing as you've been incapable is working alone in this case."
Sherlock stared at Irene, unable to say anything in response.
Mycroft shifted in his seat. "She knows the plan for the evening. With a bit of luck we may get this case over and done with before the sun rises again."
Sherlock sighed as he drew out a chair and slumped down next to his brother. Irene too sat down and pulled a chair out between herself and Tracie for June to sit on. Once they were all sat down, they started to discuss their plan. Eventually talking turned to dancing. Lestrade hauled Sherlock to his feet and pushed him towards the dance floor.
"Just keep your eyes peeled," Sherlock said, freeing his shoulder from Lestrade's grip and turning to the group. "Timothy, Steven and the rest of the clique could be anywhere in this hall." He glanced at Irene who took a step forward, holding out her hand.
"Shall we dance, Mr Holmes?" She asked with a smile on her face. Sherlock looked at her hand before taking it. Tracie dragged John onto the dance floor. The hall was packed with people dancing. Everyone was dressed in different outfits. Some wore masquerade masks and some wore 1920's flapper dresses. Everyone was a little but different from the other.
As June worked her way through the dancing crowd, wringing her hands nervously, someone grabbed hold of her upper arm and swung her round. She found herself in the arms of a man wearing a black eye mask. June recognised him instantly as the man took her by the waist and danced to the beat of the music.
"Hello, June." He purred as his lips curled upwards.
"Mr White." She replied.
Steven chuckled as he squeezed her hand in his grip. "Always so blunt towards me, aren't you?"
June narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?" She hissed.
"I'm not after anything, Miss Harris."
June swallowed. "So you know."
"Judith, I've been with your brother for a fair few years now, I know who he really is. And I know who you are."
June tried to pull away from him but his grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer to him.
"Don't call me that." She hissed.
"What? Don't call you by your real name?" Steven paused for a moment. "Oh," He let out a sigh. "Sherlock doesn't know the real you yet."
"And he's not going to," June snapped. "Is that why you went looking for me at the gym and pretended to be the HR manager?"
"Sort of."
"What do you mean sort of?" She demanded as they danced passed an elderly couple. "How did you find my brother?"
"He was sitting in the hideout. I went for a walk and curiosity got the better of me so I wanted to check out the building. I found Timothy there and we got talking. He told me about you and told me what you were doing and that both of you were going under your mother's maiden name. We made a deal then. I gave him money, food and some shelter. Then a year later we formed our clique."
"So how did you manage to fool everyone at Scotland Yard that you were a manager and employ Christopher Burke?"
"I have my ways. That Lestrade chap is easily led. Sometimes you can tell him anything and he would most likely believe you. That's why he believes in Sherlock Holmes. He just gets lured into his trap, just like yourself and John. Even Sherlock's brother doesn't have a lot of faith in him."
"My brother wants to-"
"Kill Sherlock Holmes yes I know," He sighed as they halted for a moment. "And he won't give up," Steven's voice lowered. "Your brother has lost his mind. He murders people because he enjoys it. He thinks it's fun, and the only way you'll be able to keep Sherlock alive is by catching Timothy and taking him to the police to be locked up forever."
June raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to help us out?"
Steven laughed as they started dancing to the music again. His grip on her hand grew tighter and he pulled her even closer so their bodies were touching. "I don't help. I'm part of a clique that likes to get in the way, neither helping nor interfering. I'm telling you how to save the one you love, yet I'm telling your brother that Sherlock is here tonight. He also knows that the police are hiding outside and your team with John, Mycroft, Irene and Lestrade," He paused as licked his lips, looking down at June. "Tell me of Tracie, John's recent girlfriend."
"What's she got to do with this?"
"Oh everything, June. Perhaps the fact that she's using John to help Timothy out. Yes, June, she knows your plan and so do we. She lured John into her trap, making him believe that she loves him. Nope. She's another member of our clique."
They stopped dancing again as June sighed, looking into Steven's eyes. She suddenly felt deflated knowing that John had been tricked by the woman who he had started to fall for.
"Do you know what I think?" She asked as she shifted her hand placement on Steven's shoulder. "I think that you have this big ego about you, making you feel rather confident with your position in your clique and although this court meeting of yours has been subsided for the time being, you think you may as well just get away with it. But we all know you're a fraud. Even to my brother you betray him. Time is slipping away, Mr White, and soon enough," She leaned forward and whispered. "You'll lose time within yourself and everything around you will fall just like a great big, mighty boulder crashing upon the ocean's surface, shattering away until every last part of you is gone forever."
She slowly leaned away from him and they stared at each other for a moment before June quickly pushed away from him just as the music started to speed up. She spun round and disappeared into the forever moving dancers. She then found herself in Sherlock's grip and then danced to the music. Sherlock looked rather taut and frustrated. Their gaze locked into each other's for a while before Sherlock looked over her shoulder.
"Have you seen him yet?" Sherlock asked, his voice very stiff as they moved around the dance floor.
"Who?"
"Steven White."
"I've just danced with him."
Sherlock looked at her and frowned. "June what are you doing?"
"We talked," She replied. "Sadly our plan is not going to work seeing as my brother knows exactly what we all want to do. Someone in our group has betrayed us."
"John's girlfriend." Sherlock muttered. "I guessed from the start she was a bad idea."
June nodded. She watched Sherlock as his eyes darted around the room. She suddenly felt nervous upon the fact that their plan was blown out the window. "It's a dance, Sherlock. Try and look like you're enjoying it."
"What reason is there for me to pretend to be enjoying something I'm not and didn't even want to attend in the first place?"
"Keep a low profile like you said. Pretend so you're not worrying anyone else," June sighed. "Sherlock I feel as if I'm being watched. I feel like people are constantly watching us and that we can't get away with anything secretly."
Sherlock looked down at June for a long while. After a while he opened his mouth a little, looking deep into her eyes. June frowned as it felt as if Sherlock was trying to read her again. Sherlock then suddenly felt aware of the short distance between them, their bodies touching and that her mouth wasn't exactly far from his. He was aware of her hand resting on the back of his neck and that he had his placed on her lower back.
"What?" June asked, still frowning as they stopped dancing.
"Your pupils…" Sherlock paused and frowned. "June your pupils are dilated," He loosened his grip on her hand as he looked away from June. "I want you to know that I'm not interested in any idea of having a love affair and that I'd rather just keep myself to myself." He cleared his throat as he let go of June and turned away from her to find the nearest person to dance with, which happened to be John. June froze on the spot as she watched him awkwardly skitter away. Tears started to fill in her eyes but she quickly brushed them away and walked off the dance floor in a hurry.
John groaned as Sherlock took hold of him and hauled him around the dance floor, nearly making him trip over his own feet. "Really, Sherlock?" He whined. "There's enough rumours about the two of us being together, we don't need to make it worse!"
But Sherlock ignored him as he looked over John's shoulder in hope to find Steven White or Timothy.
The evening went on and June had called a taxi to collect her and take her back to Baker Street. While she was in the ladies toilet waiting for the taxi to arrive, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, appalled by her red, blotchy eyes from crying.
A moment later, June ducked to the tiled floor of the toilets, gripping hold of the sink as a loud gunshot was heard from the ballroom, followed by many screams. The music had stopped and people were screaming as more gunshots were heard. June quickly pushed herself off the ground and ran out the toilets, through the foyer and into the hallway. Hiding under a plant pot, she looked through the arch windows. On the dance floor were many policemen, including Lestrade fighting some men who June only guessed to be the clique members.
"Crouching down there all evening isn't going to help."
June jumped at the sound of Irene's voice and she quickly stood up.
"What do you expect me to do?" June hissed. "They know our plan. Do you have a backup?
Irene eyed her and folded her arms. "I suggest you'd better go upstairs. Do you still have the first victim's skin sample?"
June nodded.
Irene smiled and lightly touched her arm. "Go, Miss Lawrence. Go upstairs now before your brother or anyone else makes it worse," She sighed. "I know you're lying to Sherlock, pretending you're someone you're not. But he's going to have to find out one day."
"What are you going to do?" June asked softly, ignoring her last remark.
Irene smirked as she opened the long split at the bottom of her dress and pulled off a gun which she had tied to her thigh. "Whether they know that we plan to have Timothy arrested by the end of the night, there's nothing wrong with helping in the fight." She turned and walked back down the hallway. "GO!" She shouted back and June ran. She ran back into the foyer, through another set of oak double doors and up a flight of stairs. She slowed her pace and hid behind a wall once she had reached the top to catch her breath. She slowly glanced behind the wall down the dark corridor. There was no one around. Taking a deep breath, June tip toed down the corridor with one hand placed on the wall. The corridor was long and the sound of the fight in the ballroom below sent a shiver down June's spine. She eventually found her way into one of the rooms. Feeling her hand along the wall, she flicked on the light switch. The bright white lights flickered on, revealing the small room. On the other side was a large window overlooking the street. The room was quite small and had three wooden desks and computers along the middle. June walked across the room and looked out the window. The streetlights out on the street were on and parked outside the main entrance of the building were many police cars and vans.
June jumped as one of the clocks on the desk beeped as it hit midnight. She then quickly sat on one of the battered chairs by the desk and turned on the computer. She slipped her fingers down the top of her corset and took out a glass tube she had hidden between her breasts. The tube contained skin samples from Timothy's first victim.
It was another few minutes before the computer was on. June, using the username and password Lestrade gave her, hacked onto Scotland Yard's private system and searched for her brother's actions. There was a whole folder about the clique and Timothy's murders. Taking out pen and paper from the desk's drawer, she noted down anything that seemed relevant. She scanned down her notes and tried to find links but the moment she noticed the link between each murder, it was clear as to why her brother murdered them.
Writing down the first names of the five victims, June crossed out each letter which eventually spelled out: "Judith Harris is alive."
June leaned back in the seat, her stomach knotting with fear. Sherlock believed that Judith Harris died not long after her mother's death. He couldn't read June because she was under cover. Timothy purposely killed these five people because he knew the sentence that all their names spelled out together. Each murder was one step to letting Sherlock know that June was a fraud. But he was unable to see that.
June covered her mouth with a shaking hand, stifling a scream of anger. The sound of the ticking clock echoed in her ears as she looked at the small glass tube in her hands. Sherlock wanted June to research more about his first victim on Scotland Yard's database, using the DNA codes from her skin, but June knew that that plan was no longer relevant. Just as she placed the tube on the desk, a gun clicked in her right ear. June froze.
"I'm glad you've finally discovered the code, Miss Harris." A male's voice spoke. It was a voice that June didn't recognise but as the man moved to the side, she realised that it was Christopher Burke. "Took you long enough." He continued, still holding the gun to June.
June remained frozen on the spot, not wanting to move or say anything. She kept her gaze on Christopher.
"Your brother would be proud of you, June. You discovered something quicker than Sherlock Holmes. In my opinion I'd say he's losing his mind. He can't seem to make a deduction over anything as much as he used to. You'd think that he discovered who you really are." Christopher grabbed hold of June's upper arm and hauled her out of the seat, pushing her out of the room. June managed to turn and attempt to hit Christopher, just like she did at the scene of the second murder, but he blocked her attack.
Christopher let out a roar of laughter as he grabbed her wrist and pulled it behind her back. He pushed her against one of the desks and placed the gun right to her temple. "I assume you don't want me to kill you now."
"I'm sure if you wanted to kill her, you would have done so by now."
Stood in the doorway, pointing a gun to them both was Sherlock. There was a long pause of silence as Sherlock slowly started to edge his way into the room. As he got closer, his gun remained targeted at Christopher. He glanced at June.
"You okay?" He asked calmly.
"Yeah. Never felt better." She replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"Not down with the fight then, Sherlock?" Christopher asked, keeping the gun to June's head.
Sherlock wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Fights like that aren't my area," He took one last step closer. "Where is Timothy?"
Christopher shrugged. "Should be around somewhere."
"You are only minutes away before being locked up in prison, Mr Burke, along with the rest of your clique, and I'm just asking you one favour. Tell me where Timothy is."
Christopher pushed June's head to the side with his gun. He narrowed his eyes and clicked the gun. Sherlock shifted on the spot. Then Lestrade, John, Irene and Mycroft walked into the room, all holding guns to Christopher.
"What is this?" He muttered as he pulled June away from the table. June kept her eyes fixed on Sherlock, wishing he would do something.
"Drop your weapon," Greg ordered but Christopher didn't reply. "I said drop your weapon!" When Christopher didn't do as he was told, Greg lowered his gun and pulled the trigger. Christopher dropped the gun and let out a cry as he fell to his knees, clutching his wounded foot. John grabbed hold of June's arm and pulled her behind him as Sherlock took a step forward, holding the gun to his head.
Christopher looked up at Sherlock, sweat pouring from his forehead. "You really want to know the riddle of this case?" He growled, his voice shaking. "Timothy Lawrence is not in the building, Mr Holmes. But he left you a little riddle in his murders."
"I don't like riddles." Sherlock hissed.
Greg, who had noticed June's notes on the desk, picked it up. "Judith Harris is alive." He read aloud. John's grip round June tightened.
Sherlock looked at Greg, frowning. "What?"
"It's a riddle," June spoke out, keeping her voice controlled. "I worked it out."
"How?"
June glanced at Sherlock's bewildered face. Fear flowed through her body. "I looked at all the first names of my brother's victims and that was what each letter in their names spelled out."
Sherlock looked at Mycroft. "Is this a joke?" He snapped. "Is this why you wanted me you research more into this young girl's life?"
June held her breath, terrified that Mycroft or Irene would let it slip. But luckily they both kept it quiet.
"I did not know of this till now, Sherlock," Mycroft hissed. "Judith Harris is alive and somewhere in this world. You just haven't seen it yet."
"The remaining of the riddle is still unanswered, Sherlock," Christopher said. "Five murders of the brother to the woman you live with. Judith Harris tells a fascinating story of a eleven year old who to this day has gone under cover."
Sherlock lowered his gun. "I've had enough of these riddles," He mumbled as he turned and started to walk away. "Lock him up." He said to Lestrade before leaving the room.
June watched him leave before looking at Mycroft and Irene. Lestrade walked across, grabbed hold of Christopher's collar and dragged him away.
"I don't know what this game is," He snapped. "But it's getting ridiculous," He looked at John and June. "Please would you both just help Sherlock and get to the bottom of this! Forget the bloody riddles! We're now on a search to look for Judith Harris as well as your brother, June. This has gone on long enough!" He left the room, dragging Christopher with him, who was hobbling along on one foot. John let out a loud sigh, shocked at Lestrade's sudden outburst. No one had ever seen Greg so angry.
June closed her eyes for a moment as she knew what was to happen. Sherlock had to know that she was Judith Harris before her brother gets to him. Mycroft and Irene knew it too.
It was the early hours of the morning and all the clique members, apart from Timothy, had been locked up in prison. June and John went back to Baker Street not long after and John retired to his bed, not saying a word. The hurt from being used and lied to by Tracie was clearly seen on John's face and June felt very sympathetic towards him.
It was another bitterly cold night and June couldn't bring herself to fall asleep. Her mind was running over everything that had happened at the ball that night. She sat in the sitting room on one of the windowsills, looking out at Baker Street and smoking a cigarette. She watched the quiet snow fall in the light of the streetlamps. Everything outside was quiet. Even for London the night seemed eerily quiet. The look on Sherlock's face when he read her for the first time, noticing her feelings for him was pictured in her mind. She hated it and wanted to forget it. At the same time she felt hurt from his reaction as he left her on the dance floor very cold heartedly. She quickly wiped away a tear.
"Can't sleep?"
June turned to look at Sherlock who was stood in the doorway, still wearing his suit; minus the tie and jacket. She sighed and looked out the window. "It's the same every night." She replied as she took another drag. There was a moment of silence before she looked at Sherlock who was watching her intently. "You neither?"
Sherlock walked towards her. "I don't like to sleep that often. You've noticed that, June," He sat on the windowsill opposite her, noticing how she was avoiding his eye contact. "Do you have another?"
June looked at him for a moment before nodding. She drew out a lighter and a packet of cigarettes and threw them to Sherlock who caught them with one hand. She watched him as he placed one in his mouth, light it and take the first drag before looking back out the window. There was silence for a long while as they stared out the window.
"Have you any idea about what Christopher meant about his riddle?" June asked, trying to seem concerned about it.
Sherlock shook his head no. "I don't," He muttered. "It's impossible that an eleven year old escaped after killing her mother and continued to live ten years later. What did she do to stay alive?" Sherlock looked at June. "Do you have any idea?"
But June shrugged. "No," She took another drag and slowly breathed out. "At least all the clique members are locked up now."
"How did you solve the puzzle?" Sherlock asked accusingly.
"What?"
"How did you get 'Judith Harris is alive' from the names of the victims?"
"Because I know who my brother is and I know what he's like," June breathed out and Sherlock noticed that she was trembling a little. "Timothy likes his puzzles and his riddles. Making a sentence from letters in names or particular words was something he liked to do," June shrugged again as she brought her knees close to her. "Once I saw the file about Judith Harris on the coffee table, it suddenly became clear."
Sherlock watched her, frowning for a little while but then relaxed, letting his shoulders drop as he suddenly felt sympathy for June; a feeling he very rarely felt.
"I'm sorry," He whispered. "Not about the problem with your brother or the fact that you witnessed someone threatening to shoot you in the head but of what I said," Sherlock looked at June with his eyes who was frowning back at him. "I'm sorry for being too harsh on you."
June rolled her eyes, not wanting Sherlock to apologise or feel sorry because he had hurt her. "Sherlock, there's no reason for you to ever be sorry. Especially to me because I don't matter." She took another drag.
Sherlock leaned back.
"It's true," June continued. "I'm tougher than I look. I can take a beating. I'd never expect you to feel the same way back."
Sherlock noticed that her voice quivered and right at the moment, she wasn't strong. Somehow she had become a little easier to read. "Don't ever say you don't matter, June Lawrence, because you do. You always have and always will."
"Prove it." June snapped.
Sherlock hesitated. "You matter to me."
It felt like a long time as they both stared at each other in silence. June had her mouth open agape, not entirely sure what she wanted to say in response. But after a while, she cleared her throat and she stubbed out her cigarette.
"I think I might try and get some sleep with what little time I have left till sunrise." She muttered as she stood up. Sherlock also stood up so they were facing each other. He looked down at her, their faces inches apart and their lips only millimetres away from each other's. June glanced down at his lips and had a burning desire to kiss him, but she knew she couldn't.
"Happy new year, Sherlock." She said as she turned and walked out of the room.