A/N: Wow. Thank you guys so much for the reviews, follows, favorites, and views. This started out as me going a little hiatus crazy, and we've all been there. I never expected anyone else to enjoy it as much as I did. So here is another chapter. I'm catching up to what I already had written so updates will be even more random. . Anyways. Review if you have the guts!
Billie, Near The Swan
"Sixty-six Bayswater Road please," the cabbie nodded at her as he pulled away from New Scotland Yard. Settling back against the faded vinyl seats she struggled with the sense of wrongness. Leaving Doctor Watson behind like that was a backhanded move, but it didn't make sense to keep them both tied up with the mousy woman. He could easily finish the interview with Lestrade and catch him up to speed on the latest findings while I went to The Swan, she rationalized to her self. Crossing her legs, she checked on the knife tucked into the inside of her left boot with her right hand, wincing slightly as the cracked skin pulled and re-opened.
"Here we are, Miss", the cab slowed to a stop in front of a two story white building with "The Swan" written across the top in two places.
"Keep the change," handing the fare over the top of the front seat, Billie stepped out into the brisk London air. Fall was coming, and already the weather was turning. Stepping inside, the atmosphere of a small pub surrounded her. Cheerful voices, warm lighting, and the sounds of a band tuning up in the back. Walking up to the bar in the center of the room she smiled at the older gentleman behind the counter.
"Well, good-evening lassie, and what can I get you?" Smiling back at him politely she pulled a photograph of Thomas Andrews from her pocket and handed it across.
"Have you seen this man come in before? Maybe only during a certain waitress's shift? He's a cousin of mine and we're all getting rather concerned about him." The old man set down the mug he had been polishing with a rag and squinted down at the picture.
"Oh, you mean Tom is your cousin? Ye', I seem to remember him coming in when Ana was on the clock, took quite shine to her he did. Matter of fact, he was real tore up when the news came in about her. Murdered she was, in the park just across the road here, we were all upset o' course, but he took it harder than most. Nice girl she was. Haven't seen him since she was found."
"Thank you so much, I'm sure he'll turn up eventually." With a smile she slipped a five pound note into the tip jar, and turned on heel, stepping back out into the brisk wind. Slipping her phone free from her pocket she turned in the direction of Baker Street and dialed Doctor Watson, mindless of the footsteps trailing her.
Doctor Watson, New Scotland Yard
"Well, she's almost as dead of an end as her late ex-husband. The personality of dry wall too." I nodded in agreement and settled into a chair across the desk from Lestrade. I was worried about Billie roaming the streets of London by herself, but with Mycroft watching her I felt a little better. We spent the next ten minutes going over the symbolism from the crime scenes, and the connections. We were now sure that Thomas Andrews had been cheating on his wife with Ana Smith, and that had been the reason both had been killed, unfortunately this didn't bring us any closer to the identities of our killers. Just as I was standing up to say goodbye, my phone went off again. I saw Billie calling and answered in relief.
"Billie, good, how did it go?"
"Just fine Doctor, nothing we didn't expect. I'm walking home now."
"Why don't you just catch a cab, Lestrade's giving me a ride and we can discuss the interviews."
"Because I'm halfway there and all these cab rides are making me fat. Besides it would make it harder for my tail to follow me if jumped in a cab. You have Mycroft watching me don't you?"
"...well. Yes I do. But-"
"Easy, Doctor. I know this isn't one of his people, usually they aren't this moronic. Seems I've caught someone else's attention. This way we might get their identity on camera. And if they get too close, I'll take them out. Gotta go now. See you at home."
The line went dead and again I found myself hissing at my phone in a nearly cat like gesture.
"Lestrade, we need to go. Now." I turned and with him at my heels dashed out of the office.
Baker Street
"Oh, John, I'm so glad you're home, she's upstairs and wouldn't let me call for a doctor," Mrs. Hudson met me at the door and as I dashed up the stairs I could hear Lestrade stopping to soothe her. I came into the kitchen to find Billie grimacing and peeling a sweater off. Blood running down her left arm and dripping onto the tile. She turned and looked at me apologetically.
"Afraid I'm making a bit of a mess here, John," I grabbed her arm and inspected it, finding a graze from a bullet lacing across the top of her bicep. Superficial thankfully, but it needed to be stitched up.
"Next time you're taking the bloody cab, do you hear me?" I snapped at her before nudging her towards a chair and going upstairs to grab my medical bag.
"Yes, Doctor." She grinned at me and set her arm up on the table so I could begin to clean and suture it up.
"Bloody hell. What the devil did you get into this time?" Lestrade took a seat across the table from our makeshift operation and stared at her in disbelief.
"Well, on my way home from The Swan, I picked up on someone tailing me. So I took a chance on it and turned down an alley and waited. I figured either they would want to keep their cover and keep walking, or that they had been told to confront me, and they would come after me. Either way we would find out what they looked like, and possibly who they were. Jesus, Doctor! Do you have to pull so?" I looked up from my stitches and just glared in answer. She rolled her eyes at me and looked back to Lestrade. "Anyway, he followed me down the alley. About five foot six inches if I had to guess. Packing a .45 colt. Typical American gun most would say. I caught him in the leg with the knife from my boot, and he got me in the arm before stumbling his way out of the alley. I made it here about two minutes before you guys did. I already called Mycroft and he is sending me the camera footage from the route I walked to get home. As soon as Doctor Watson stops abusing me at needlepoint here I'll pull it up." She smiled at me then sat quietly.
"Lestrade, I'm beginning to think that we've aroused some rather unwelcome attention here," I finished my last stitch and wrapped her arm up in gauze before picking up her right hand and unwrapping it, "In fact, it would seem that Billie has even made herself a target. Don't you think it might be time to tell Mycroft to go stuff himself and find Sherlock?" A small whimper caught my attention and I looked over into Billie's tense face then down at her hand. "Oh hell. You've definitely broken at least one finger and two knuckles. Well done you."
"I'm going to head back to the Yard. I'll call Mycroft from there. And you two, do kindly try not to get hurt while I'm away." With that Lestrade got up and left down the staircase.
"Well, now what Doctor?", she pulled her hand back and flexed it a couple of times. Nothing was broken, but it was best if we let Lestrade believe that the cab door story was actually true. I felt I owed her at least that. after all she had done to keep my PTSD under control, I could allow her this dignity.
"Now we find Sherlock."
Journal
Sorry it's been so long since I've written, you wouldn't believe the pile of shit we've gotten ourselves into. Right now Billie is cooking dinner, which she claims to be an old family recipe, but smells suspiciously like shepherds pie. She overrode Mrs. Hudson's complaints and set up a speaker system along the main floor of the flat, and now has Hotel California going. Every now and then she'll move in a way that causes her to wince. Between her assault on the tree, and now a bullet grazing her arm she is starting to look like a warrior. Someone we suspect to either be one of our killers or someone working for them followed her the other day. I'm blaming myself. I knew I shouldn't let her go off on her own into London, but I never expected her to come back with a bullet hole.
Sherlock, this is borderline insanity. If you really were out to get the remnants of Moriarty's associates you've missed these two. I know you are either in the city, or nearby, but for some reason we mere mortals cannot reason through you are staying out of it. Whatever has you so preoccupied I hope it is worth it. I think I'll lay off the journaling for now. Focus on the case before someone here catches a bullet, again, and ends up as dead as you pretended to be.