HUGE THANK YOU TO TheSpottedDog!
I had no idea how messed up the chapter was and I'm glad I was able to repost this :)
Enjoy!
"Can you stop pacing already?" I sat in Sherlock's chair with my legs tucked under me and a book in my hands as Sherlock paced across the floor, every creak of the wood irked me. I raised a brow as he said nothing but stopped pacing to pick up his violin and began plucking at it with some force.
We'd gotten into a bit of a tiff this morning over my carelessness yesterday that had ended with snogging and a shag, much to John's embarrassment...but it wasn't like all the times before. He'd felt more needy than he had in the past, no. More worried? Intense? More something, my arms still felt sore from how tightly he'd gripped them at three A.M.
"Christ, its like shes upped and left all over again." John mumbled from behind his laptop with some distaste as I gave his words a modest smirk.
I'd never officially sat down and heard about what 221B had been like after I'd practically ran out of the apartment after Sherlock and I's first night, but I wasn't an idiot. I realised he'd likely been a bit more moody to deal with though I failed to see how me losing the shopping to a spurned dead man's frustrations would elicit such a response.
His despondent plucking continued as my eyes drifted back towards the solitary bookcase facing the fire place that I knew held one of James' various cameras and wondered if he'd gotten bored of this oddly domestic scene yet. While it was true that he had an addictive personality, he also lost interest in things quickly enough if it didn't go according to plan. He claimed it was his one weakness, his 'changeability' though I felt it was more that he didn't enjoying anyone else pulling the strings.
I focused back on my novel with some urgency when I realised that if he were still interested, he'd notice my stare. I wasn't exactly hiding it and I'd been lucky that neither John nor Sherlock had noticed my quietness. I forced my eyes to dart across the paper with a small sigh, this was getting complicated. More so than I'd intended when I first met the pair nearly six months ago and it was already December. I'd need to make my choice soon, either I'd stay and indulge this odd warming feeling in my chest or I'd leave out of whatever was left of my sense of self-preservation.
I supposed it'd taken about five minutes of his plucking away and only two pages from my book for an impatient knock to sound off from the door. I picked my head up from it's position on the chair and glanced at John who looked confused with his brow furrowed. It wasn't a potential client then, this wasn't planned.
"Alright then." I sighed to myself as I stood to answer the door after a few seconds of silence and staring from my male companions. If they weren't, I might as well do it.
"Hel-" I reached out towards the handle and moved to turn it when pale hands wrapped themselves around my waist and yanked me backwards. I was startled for a second that he'd moved so quickly but the shock quickly dissipated into the same fuzzy feeling I'd had for a week now. It wasn't disagreeable, just...odd.
"John will answer it." Sherlock's low voice ticked my ear as I considered huffing and stamping my foot on-top of his to just answer the bloody door and see what he'd do. Three more knocks sounded off, this time a lot harder. Their low supply of patience had to be wearing thin by now, I had no doubts they could obviously hear us whispering amongst ourselves in the tense silence.
I almost laughed at how odd it was to see John approach the door in the same manner a damsel would approach her aggressor's still body in a b-rate horror flick. Though of course this wasn't a film and while John didn't appear intimidating in his checkered pajama bottoms and stained t-shirt, the loaded gun in his hand was a touch scary.
His shoulders were tense but his hands didn't shake as he opened the door in a rush, I noted. I swallowed, wondering why my heart rate had suddenly picked up. I'd had plenty of guns pointed in my face before but, for some odd reason I didn't enjoy watching John point his for our protection.
"Oh. What brings you here?" I watched his face turn from steely conviction into one of a recognition that caused his entire body to relax. I watched as the gun dropped down to face the floor.
"Many things, Mr Watson. Lovely to see you so...relaxed." I moved from Sherlock's arms as soon as I felt them slacken out of curiosity, I swore knew the owner of the voice but I couldn't understand why he'd be here. I peeked from behind the door to see Mycroft's face peeled back in distaste as he eyed John's outfit. I moved towards the door, opening it wider as I pushed a lazy grin onto my face.
"Come to pout some more, Mycroft?" I raised a brow as the older man's gaze darted towards my face and body. He was scanning me but he'd had enough sense to not vomit out all of his observations unlike Sherlock.
"Rosalyn." I expected a sharp reply but instead he gave me a tight smile with thinly veiled anger bubbling at the surface. Mycroft was still angry with me and my questionable loyalties as well as the current company I kept, I surmised. I couldn't find it in my hollow being to feel the guilt that should have been there for jumping ship after all he'd done for me so, instead I just stepped aside and let him into the flat. It'd been his own weakness that left him in this position and we both understood that well enough to remain polite.
"Hm." Mycroft's eyes darted across the place before he smoothly angled himself onto the couch between a forgotten blanket and some pillows I'd grabbed from Sherlock's room when I'd felt the need to watch some telly. The tightening of his shoulders and his grip on the ever present umbrella reminded me that this was not his preferred habitat.
"I've come with a request, Sherlock." I closed the door, ignoring the confused and suspicious glances from John in order to focus on the scene in front of me. Sherlock hadn't moved from his spot though his face wasn't smooth anymore. It was wrinkled, his eyes narrowing into slits and his hand balled into a relaxed fist by his side. He didn't enjoy his brother coming around or getting comfortable in his territory, he seemed quite ready to grab a hold of his modestly expensive suit and hurl him down the stairs.
"What sort of request?" John was comfortable enough with both the Holmes in one place, easily coming around Sherlock and I to take a seat in his chair and leaning forwards as though that would help him better understand the eldest Holmes.
"What indeed? Can't fit into your trousers again, dear brother?" Sherlock snapped with the rabid attitude of a particularly small dog as he practically threw himself into his seat. I imagined him as a small Vizsla for a near second and conspicuously pinched my own thigh in an effort to distract myself from the giggle it had conjured up.
"Not any request of mine alone, unfortunately. Its more of a...partnership between my organisation and theirs." Mycroft wasn't taking the bait that Sherlock had practically thrust into his face. Instead he wasn't all that focused on his brother, in fact he seemed to be eyeing me heavily, though it wasn't out of lust. He was...guarded. I wasn't meant to be privy to this conversation due to some doubt or distrust he held for me. He was smart to do that, honestly.
"This mystery client has a request and they partner with the British government?" I raised a brow, forcing myself into the conversation with little hesitance as I came from my position near the door to stand in between John's and Sherlock's chairs.
"Sounds...scandalous." I drawled, letting my voice hint at something vaguely sexual just to tease him out of petty pleasure.
"Mm." He just sort of shrugged at first, a slight bob of his head to neither confirm nor deny my statement but I smirked a touch. He'd confirmed that I'd hit the nail on the head as Mycroft's shoulders tightened ever so slightly. It seemed I could still elicit some sort of reaction out of the man.
"Boring." Sherlock tsked as he stood and picked up his violin to pluck it once more. This wasn't boring for me, it was interesting. Someone big and powerful was being threatened with a scandal and they'd roped in the government, that only left politicians and royalty as potential clients. But, politicians wouldn't have bothered to partner with the government, which would mean then that the client was royalty?
"Well...have you ever seen this woman before?" Mycroft was undeterred by his brother's attitude, moving to open a briefcase that I hadn't realised was there until now. Whoops. My observation skills were slipping thanks to my lack of deduction opportunities but I wasn't about to tell Sherlock that his warnings were well-founded. His ego was big enough as it was.
I blinked at the image as Mycroft handed it to John first, logging the details into the back of my head. She was certainly attractive, curly black hair and pale skin that was accented by the deep red shade on her lips. Interesting, considering the aggressive eye contact she was making with the camera from over her shoulder, this came across as more of a head-shot than surveillance footage. Was she famous?
"Perhaps this conversation would be better suited to simply just yourself and Sherlock." Mycroft attempted to respectfully tell me to bugger off as John frowned at the photograph, but I raised a brow innocently.
"Whys that? Do you not want me here?" I pursed my lips, channeling a kicked puppy as I glanced between John and Sherlock for back up. John's eyes snapped up to meet mine quickly turning guilty as he took in my expression.
"Uh-um. Of course not-I mean we do want you here." He opened his mouth and closed it as he shook his head quickly. I noticed the discordant plucking had stopped when I felt a light pressure at my hip as Sherlock stepped around me to snatch the picture from John's hands.
"Don't be ridiculous. Dumbness doesn't suit you." He rolled his eyes but glanced over the picture with zero recognition in his eyes. I almost patted myself on the back at the fact I could still get him to reassure me, even if it was a touch insulting.
"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, only your name has arisen." Mycroft brushed off my insincere attempts of being absolutely pitiful and I began to worry that I might actually be cut out of this. Could he do that?
"Don't you have a service for this? Your own police?" Sherlock raised a brow, not appearing to recognise the woman at all as he tossed the picture back to Mycroft.
"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust." Mycroft grimaced, having revealed more than he'd already intended to in my presence though I had to give him some points for still being polite as he told me to piss off.
"Ah...Wait, you don't even trust your own security?" John seemed to just realise that I was the proverbial fly in Mycroft's ointment here as he glanced at me before he returned to him with a question of his own.
"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." Mycroft shook his head as he slipped the image back into his briefcase and carefully leaned back into the couch as though it might bite him.
"What does Jane Doe have to do with us then?" Sherlock appeared to have little patience today and I wasn't sure as to why.
"You're slipping, Sherlock. She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately." Mycroft surmised with a small smirk though his eyes and posture communicated well enough that he was uncomfortable here and he didn't trust me whatsoever.
"Rose? Anything to add to this irrelevant dribble? We do need to work on your skills, maintenance is key." Sherlock turned the room's attention onto me as I raised a brow, having forgotten about my previous attempt at channeling a kicked puppy.
"Er. I tend to stay away from politics, they've never done me any good." I was nibbling on my lip without noticing until Sherlock's eyes dropped to my lips before they came back to focus on what appeared to be my forehead as he gave me a resolute nod.
"So who is she?" John dragged my attention back to the scene I was quickly growing bored with. It was so much easier to get information out of Mycroft when I'd been sleeping with him. He was like a giant safe these days.
"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman." He sighed, moving to go back into his briefcase again without meeting me in the eyes. I choose to sit down in Sherlock's chair while he still stood, it was becoming quite evident that I'd get to hear at least part of this. I supposed that sleeping with Sherlock had some positives still...outside of the physical ones, of course.