Fallout

Somehow, the searching of the top floor had left them to split up into two groups, which consisted of Ramona in one, and Sherlock and Henrietta in another. Ramona hadn't the slightest clue as to how she had actually managed to get her way with the stubborn detective, but it had happened.

She had promised him to not wander too far into the dark rooms, that almost felt like a maze, but she was now lost, deep inside it's walls. If anything was going to attack her, this would probably be the best time to do so.

Ramona felt something she couldn't quite put into words. It was the elephantine feeling of fear that hung over ever thought she was having, every noise she heard, and everything she managed to make out in the inky midnight of somewhere that looked too dilapidated to ever have been built by humans in the first place.

She heard something that like a metallic thrumming from behind her, and she quickly turned around, with damp palms clinging onto a torch, which desperately tried to find the source of the noise, walking backwards. She saw a glimpse of a rat's tail scuttle away from the harsh light of the torch, and she let out a sigh of relief, before bumping into something that felt like a brick wall. She leaned back fully, and looked up, only to find the brick wall had dashing cheekbones.

Ramona let out a cry of surprise and felt her heart miss a beat as she jumped away from the detective, who had a look of malice on his face.

"I told you not to go too far." The white of his teeth flashed menacingly in the dark, and Ramona felt like a child about to get a scolding.

"What're you doing here then?" She remarked casually, shining the light in his face. He scowled and pushed the torch to point somewhere else.

"Haven't had any luck, then?"

"I wouldn't call finding a murderous beast luck, but no." She sighed. Was this a dead end? Was this woman really a lunatic? Did she actually believe her story? Had she in the first place, or did she just because it was the only lead they could come up with? She scolded herself internally, for bad detective skills.

"Maybe we should get going." A small voice from behind Sherlock. The detectives nod reluctantly, and follow her back.

Suddenly, something that sounds like a roar could be heard, which although is probably far away, ripples through the thick silence. Ramona's eyes widen and she turns on her heels, and begins sprinting through the unknown, towards the source of the sound, disappearing into the murkiness.

"Ramona!" Another agitated roar from behind her, this time the source being Sherlock. She ignores him and carries on running.

Out of breath, the woman realises she has no clue where she is, and almost laughs when she realises she's grinning from the thrill of danger. Ramona shines her torch up a flight of stairs in the direction of the sound, and her face begins to fill with horror at the sight which makes her feel physically ill. Whatever it is growls viciously from the top of the stairs. She tries to take a step forward, but at the torch flickers momentarily, and when it comes back on, the whatever-it-is has already retreated. Ramona feels a worse fear than when she was in it's presence. Now that she couldn't see it, she couldn't fight it.

"Ramona!" Sherlock's slightly out of breath, after sprinting behind her. "What do you think you're doing?" She didn't respond, just kept looking where the creature had been. "Ramona?" She turns and begins to walk away. "What's-"

Sherlock looked back at Ramona. She hadn't said a word since they had left that floor and Henrietta had gone home. What had happened? She sat on a seat at a round table on the balcony, watching the city below, and the clear night sky. He could see from inside that she was visibly shaking.

"Here." He handed her a knitted jumper that she had brought with her. She looked at the white and black colours which blended to make grey, took it from him, and put it in her lap, without a single change that could be noted in her expression. Something was deeply wrong. He had never seen her in such a state. She unlocked her phone and checked the time, before putting it back on the table. He frowned with concern at her still shaking form. "What's-"

"Nothing." A dead tone. His eyes widened, and he sat in the seat opposite her.

"It's obviously not-"

"Well it is, so just leave it!" Her voice harshly cut him off yet again, making him angry. Why was he even bothering?

"Stop cutting me off." She crossed her arms and looked away, obviously trying to make it look like she was angry. "Just tell me what happened."

"Fine." He raised his eyebrows, surprised he had managed to get it out of her. Ramona crossed her legs, and swung the legs slightly but restlessly, in an attempt to conceal how hard she was shaking.

"Maybe you should go in-"

"I saw it." She said quietly, but with a lot of conviction.

"What?" He asked in disbelief.

"I said; I saw it." She spat, her eyes meeting his, with such a fire in them, it made him flinch.

"You saw..." He leaned in, elbows and forearms on the table. "The feline?" She nodded quickly, looking away. He let out an uncharacteristically nervous laugh. Wasn't she supposed to be logical? "Look, you've had a long day. It was just your mind's just playing tricks on you." Her head snapped to him at that deduction, and glared at him yet again.

"I know what I saw." Another sentence spat like a curse.

"It was extremely dark, and fear makes humans paranoid, it's simple science-"

"Stop treating me like a child!" She stands up powerfully, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. "You weren't there!" He stood up, starting to get agitated.

"I'm trying to make you see reason! It's obvious that your emotions have gotten to you, look at you!" He gestures to her trembling body. She takes a few breaths to try and stop panicking.

"Emotions don't get to me!" Sherlock is about to retort, however notices what bad shape she's in. She looks scared out of her wits, her voice the same as before she started to break down at his grave.

"Ramona." He caught her eyes with his, trying to calm her.

"There's-"

"Ra-"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" She shouts furiously. His eyes widen and he steps back. Although anger had been one of the most common emotions for her, none of it was anything compared to what he had just witnessed. He heard a certain familiarity in her voice and the look in her eyes, and it scared him. She noticed his reaction. "Alright?!" He had never heard her shout like that before. He realised he had heard it somewhere before. But where?

"Just listen to me-" His voice was quieter, half of it choked in shock.

"No!" Another one of those venomous shouts. He didn't know this Ramona, not this wild woman that stood before him, with fire in her eyes, menace now laced into every syllable of her speech. This woman stood in front of Sherlock... frightened him. He shook his head slightly, and proceeded to walk out of the room. The door closed gently, and her breathing began to grow to immeasurable proportions, until she couldn't keep up with it. She crouched down, trying to recover from the panic attack.

Ramona had never been that angry in her life. She had never heard herself shout like that, either. She screwed her eyes shut. was their something wrong with her, to be able to shout like that, to see red as much as she just had, and to direct it at Sherlock, of all people? His reaction was a first for her as well. He hadn't confronted her, hadn't retorted something clever or gotten angry. He had just left, and even the door was closed softly, as if he didn't accept what had just happened.

Sherlock left the hotel, crossed the road, and walked away from the building, feeling numb. He needed to remember what he linked that anger to. It could explain a lot of things, or nothing, but he had a feeling it was extremely important. Not for the case, which was admittedly pushed to the back of his mind now that this had arisen so unexpectedly.

Ramona watched him take off down the street, and suddenly had an urge to follow him. She wasn't sure what she would do when she caught up with him, but her rage and confusion subsided quickly as she pulled on her leather jacket and a pair of trainers.

By the time she was out on the street, he had disappeared. Strangely, she felt panic rising like bile in her throat. The night air was completely free of even the lightest breeze, but was still biting cold. She took off in the direction he had been walking.

After half an hour of searching, she reached the last place he could of been. It was edging on the outskirts of the lively city, and was quiet, as if in the middle of nowhere. She begged herself to stay away, but she couldn't go back without him. She walked inside the old, always open graveyard gates.

After three minutes, she spotted a tall figure, facing away from her, and she knew instantly it was him. She approached him in between the wide row of relatively new gravestones and stood right behind him, facing his back. The detective turned around to face her, his handsome features almost invisible in the complete darkness that her her eyes hadn't quite adjusted to yet.

"Why are you here?" He said in a quiet voice. For some reason, when she spoke, she still sounded angry.

Sherlock

"To bring you back. You don't know this city, and it's dangerous. Follow me." She turned around, and then, laying eyes on what was in front of her, turned straight back around, into Sherlock's chest. He frowned and looked down at her, before turning his gaze to what had spooked her.

In loving memory of Ivan Baxter, whom was untimely stolen away from us

Stolen away? Sherlock looked down at the woman who he had subconsciously put his arms around. She was shuddering slightly, and although he could hear nothing from her, he could tell she was choked on shocked tears she was violently suppressing. He could picture her teeth gritted together, and almost jumped as he felt his shirt being gripped onto tightly, as if she was angry. Could this be-

"Excuse me?" A deep man's voice in the darkness. Sherlock felt the shuddering stop, and her arms drop to her sides limply. The detective turned to his left, and saw that the man was crouching down, and laying flowers at the grave. He then stood back up to face Sherlock. His features were prominent in even this lighting. His light chocolate hair was messy, and hung in his eyes, one lock, slightly longer than the others, traced down to the middle of his straight nose, and then split into two thick ends, going off in two different directions. He was dressed in all black, a slightly over-sized plain leather jacket, black skinny jeans, and a black crew top, but with surprisingly smart looking shoes. He looked a couple of years older than Ramona. "Did you know this person?" He gestured to the grave Sherlock had just read. The detective was unsure of what to say.

Without warning, he felt a fingertip on his on his back, tracing down his spine. Sherlock gritted his teeth, and internally wrestled the need to shudder, and god knew what else. What was she doing?

Then it came to him. She was tracing letters on his back, so that he could communicate with the man. There was a Y, then an E, and then an S traced. Sherlock nods.

"Yes." The man looked surprised.

"Who are you?" Sherlock was yet again lost for words. "I'm sorry, but there aren't a lot of people who knew him." He wasn't going to be able to get out of this, and he was counting on Ramona. But at the same time, there must of been a good reason for her burying her face into his black skirt, and managing to hide herself completely in his large coat. What should he do?

However, the girl didn't let him decide. She slowly let go of him, and stepped away, facing the man. His mouth parted, in what seemed like shock. There was a five second silence before anyone spoke.

"Coralie." He finally spoke, however incredulously. Sherlock frowned. Why was he using her middle name?

"Kain." So that was his name. He observed her expression of utter blankness, and how there was nothing in her eyes. He felt he was seeing a completely different side to her tonight, and wasn't sure if he had ever wanted to.

"What're you doing here?" He looked between them, and found they had the exact same expression. He then realised their stances were the same, however Ramona seemed to look more standoffish, as if about to defend against a vicious attack. She shrugged.

"To be frank, I'm not sure." They stared at each other for a five seconds that seemed an eternity, a heavy tension radiating from each of their bodies. He was afraid for a moment that a fight may actually break out. However, perhaps it could be a different type of tension, and he was only sensing it because he didn't know the circumstances behind it. Kain let out an exasperated sigh.

"Well, that's certainly enlightening." The mans eyes didn't leave hers as he gestured to Sherlock, as if a ghost of the graveyard. "Who's this?" He said harshly.

"A friend." She said, a frost he had never hear before. However, it didn't affect the man.

"Ah, you haven't changed."

"I could say the same."

"Who is he really?" There's a silence before she answers.

"A brother in law." Internally, Sherlock felt like screaming. Kain turns to Sherlock, raises an eyebrow and looks him up and down. Sherlock frowned, returning the hidden venom in the mans tone with his now icy eyes. The mysterious man then turns back to Ramona.

"So you're not romantically involved?"

"Of course not." Sherlock almost flinched, as there was no hesitation in between the query and reply.

"Good." Sherlock's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. What was this shifty man trying to say exactly?

"Don't say things like that, your casual tone disgusts me." She crossed her arms, a defensive display of body language. He laughed. At this point, Sherlock felt completely cut off from what was happening, an inanimate object that neither of them acknowledged.

"You really haven't changed one bit." From where did he know Ramona, and what did he want with her? "But you love it when I say things like that, don't you?" Sherlock almost attacked him right there, but supposed Ramona would get there first.

"Loved. Tenses are very important." His mouth parted, as the man took a step closer.

"Don't tell me you're still bitter." She took a step back.

"Don't tell me you're still the vulgar, cocky, self absorbed lech that you were." He laughed, and took a step forward, as she took another back.

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty." Sherlock suddenly felt as if he shouldn't be watching, as he saw her small hands ball into fists at her sides.

"What do you want, Kain?" It was the first time he had seen Ramona beaten to refer to the seriousness of the situation, as if beaten in an argument. Actually, this was the first time he had seen her lose an argument. Who was this man, and what was his hold over her? The detective decided he would let it play out, but any sign of things getting too off course, and he would beat the man to a pulp. After all, it wasn't as if he'd have to travel far to bury him. He agreed internally with himself, and started to plan out the quickest way to brutally murder this man, and then effectively dispose of the evidence.

"You." Kain said nonchalantly, putting his hands into his jacket pockets. "When your dressed how you know I like, it makes me want you." His tone was as if chatting about the weather. Then, his tone changed. "A lot." Her eyes widened and almost showed emotion, but quickly brought back down the invisible barrier she had put up between her and this man.

"Sweet talk doesn't work anymore, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a girl you can take advantage of anymore." Anymore? Did that mean she had once been that girl?

"Mm, I've noticed." Kain towers over Ramona's frame at six foot, the same size as Sherlock, however, he looked more built, and Sherlock calculated that if it came to a brawl, depending on how smart the man was, he had roughly 45% of winning, if it came down to using brute force. Almost a fifty fifty, but it still made Sherlock feel uneasy. Kain leans in. "And I've decided I like this Coralie a lot more." Her gaze was fierce.

"I'm not a challenge, I'm not even in your range. Basically..." Sherlock was excited that she may actually hit this man. "I'm out of your league!" Although the shout was quieter than before on the balcony, in fact almost a hiss, it still struck an embarrassing amount of fear into Sherlock. Where had he heard it before?

"I beg to differ," He smirked, unphased by the obviously terrifying new voice Ramona had found. Or had she always had it? "If I wanted to, and I do, I'm sure I could have you screaming my name again in less than a month." Sherlock's jaw dropped. Again? Was this man... Did he... Did they-

And then, Ramona smirked. She reached out to the man's collar, and slowly pulled it down and towards her, until his face was inches away from hers. The tips of their noses were touching, and Sherlock's heart dropped to his toes.

"The only time I'd ever scream in front of you," Her voice was poisonous. "Was if I was running for my life," Kain grinned as her voice turned to a venomous whisper. "Away from you."

Ramona went to push him away violently, but her hand did nothing, as he grabbed both sides of her jacket, and pulled her towards him. Sherlock went to move to tear them apart, but he was too late. Kain forcefully pulled her even closer, and then kissed her passionately. Sherlock froze with so much anger he was paralysed, as did Ramona, as he saw her go rigid.

Ramona

After the rough first half second of the kiss, he turned skillfully gentle, as to coax her to cooperate. She fought with every single particle of her being not to return the kiss. She counted the seconds with wide eyes, as her stomach had not stopped doing flips since she had heard his voice. Ramona found her strength and pushed him away from her, after six point seven extremely long seconds.

She didn't say anything, just stared in complete shell-shock at his infuriatingly attractive face. Why does this city hate me? Kain chuckled in triumph. Scratch that, why does Cupid hate me?

"You loved it, as I expected." He brushed his hair out of his face with his hand. This was a kind of pushy she had never seen before.

"It was disgusting, as are you." She pointed at him in complete rage. "I never want to see your face again!" Kain, as usual, didn't feel anything at her words, or at least, didn't show it.

"That's what you said last time." She crossed her arms protectively. "Yet here you are, blushing after the most innocent of kisses." Her mouth parted in shock. How did he remember what she had said, after all this time, and anyway, was she blushing?

"It's anger." She said in spite of herself, knowing that quoting back to him would only give him the wrong idea.

"Whatever you say." He turned to walk away, the confidence of a thousand in one man. "It's been a pleasure. I'm moving to London, So I'll see you around." Her mouth was wide open. What sort of person does that?

The two were left in silence, as she watched him walk away for a second.

"We're leaving." Sherlock's commanding voice. She turned to storm away, and could feel the satisfied smirk on Kain's stupid face.

They walked back to the hotel in silence.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." She said, outside his hotel room, as another had freed up.

"Ramona, if you do not come into my room and tell me what the fuck just happened, I swear to god I will leave this instant." She flinched at the second time she had heard the consulting detective swear, and yet again, it was directed at her. She thought about the proposition for a second.

"Perhaps you should leave then." His eyes widened as she turned away and took a step away, before grabbing the back of her collar, pulling her back, and guiding her into his room.

"Oh, so now you're bossing me around too?"

"I always boss you around." He said nonchalantly, going to sit on the couch.

"Well yeah, but I never listen."

"Then can you do me a favour, and actually do as I say for once?" There was sadness laced into the anger in his tone. So, for once, she did as she was told, and sat on the chair opposite him, and swung her legs around so that her legs hung over the arm of the chair. "Start from the beginning."

"Well, Doc, it started when I began having nightmares about how I was a snake trapped in a block of ice-"

"Be serious, for once, as well." She glanced his way for a second, sighed, rolled her eyes and started talking. Sherlock hadn't seen this sort of behaviour from her since they first met.

"That grave is of the thug I murdered." She gauged his reaction from the corner of her eyes, which was slight surprise. So he had suspected it. "Kain is..." She struggled for a word. "An old flame, shall we say."

"A flame that obviously isn't out." Ramona gritted her teeth, and then smirked.

"It flickers." She remarked, expecting at least a smile from the detective. All she got was a glare. She raised her eyebrows in a 'calm down' sort of way.

"I'm going to need more information than six words."

"Fine." She snapped. "Kain was my first boyfriend, if you could call it that." Sherlock's eyes widen slightly. "And... " She sighed. "He's the only man I'll ever love." His jaw dropped.

Player three has finally joined the game!

I just love love rivals, sorry lol

It's sort of like she turns back into the person she was at the start, all that character development for nothing, thanks a lot -.-

I've already drafted the next chapter, and trust, things start to actually get interesting ;)

Thanks for reading as always :)