Ok folks, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Note that I made up a name for the black gentleman who was sent to fetch Sherlock in the show. I never saw if he actually had a name in the credits, so I elected to call him Mr. Reynolds. Also, this chapter is completely unbeta'd. My usual lovely beta, Mel, has been quite busy of late, so I hope there's no major mistakes that I didn't catch. And now, on to the chapter.
~J.
P.S.-Have to thank one of my wonderful reviewers for pointing out that Jayne does indeed have to take her thyroid meds every day (just like I do in real life!) and so would need to be seen and checked up on by her doctor and have her prescription refilled. Thank you for the reminder!
Jayne lay curled up in the middle of her bed, her face buried into her pillow. She was desperately trying not to cry. If she'd been a witch like in the Harry Potter books she enjoyed, she'd have gladly hexed the hell out of Irene Adler, and then out of Sherlock for being an idiot. There was just something about the way Irene had looked that had given Jayne a feeling of danger. She KNEW something was not right.
There was a knock at her door. Jayne sat up and wiped away a stray tear that had fallen. She checked herself in the mirror before going to open the door. "Yes?" She asked, surprised to see a tall black gentleman standing there. It took her a few seconds, but she recognized him from the day he'd collected her and Sherlock for the trip to Buckingham Palace. The day that Sherlock had met the entirely despicable Irene Adler. Her guts burned just thinking about it.
"Miss Wyler, I'm afraid I need you to come with us," he said politely, but there was no mistaking the fact that it was clearly not a request. Jayne sighed and nodded.
"One moment," she replied and went to grab her most comfortable shoes. If she was going to be stuck riding around with a bunch of Mycroft's people, she was going to be comfortable. "Lead the way, oh fearless leader," she said, making the man smile. She grinned at him, and followed him out to the car. She wasn't surprised to see Sherlock there. He looked as if he wanted to speak to her, but she stared straight ahead and ignored him.
"Jayne?" he said softly, but she shook her head at him. She was not going to discuss this with him here and now. They rode in silence until they pulled up to an airport and a large passenger jet. Confused, Jayne merely stared up at it as they exited the car. She watched Sherlock as he spoke to the American. Jayne wanted to growl and throw something at the bastard. But Sherlock got a strange look on his face as he spoke with the man and then hurried up the stairs.
Jayne turned to the man who'd brought them. "What the hell is going on?" She asked him.
He sighed and turned to Jayne. "I'm afraid all I can tell you is Mr. Brilliant over there is in big, big trouble." He went to continue to speak when another car drove up and an impeccably dressed Irene Adler got out and walked up the stairs into the jet as well. Jayne turned to the man, whose name she had learned was Reynolds.
"Give me your gun," Jayne said.
He looked at her in surprise, saw the fury on her face and laughed. "Trouble in paradise or something?" he asked, still smiling at her.
Jayne grimaced. "Or something. And her name happens to be Irene Adler," Jayne mumbled.
"Bad luck, honey. That woman is vicious."
"Tell me something I haven't already figured out, Reynolds!" Jayne spat at him. He stared at her for a moment.
"Do you really want my gun? I don't carry it on me, of course, but I have it in my trunk if you really think you'll need it."
Jayne sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "No, if push comes to shove, I'll just knock her the hell out and be done with it. Maybe I'll even break her nose," Jayne said, grinning at the rather bloodthirsty thought.
A short while later, Mycroft, Sherlock and Irene exited the plane and made their way towards the cars. Jayne got back in and waited for Sherlock and Mycroft. Mycroft greeted her with a stiff nod and half-smile. Sherlock looked rather stunned. She placed a hand on his arm before she remembered she was mad at him. She withdrew her hand and both Sherlock and Mycroft stared at her.
More to make polite conversation than anything else, Mycroft asked Jayne, "Jayne, dear, isn't it time for another check up for your thyroid issue?"
Jayne slumped into the chair. "Yes, I need to have my prescription renewed and everything. Not looking forward to it. I hate having my blood drawn."
Sherlock looked surprised. "I thought you said you were used to it by now?"
She glared at him. "Used to it and liking having it done are two completely different things, Sherlock Holmes."
He stiffened a bit, it had been a while since she'd used his name against him like that. But he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. It made his chest, his heart, ache.
Jayne looked at Mycroft and realized there was something odd...something she'd never seen in his eyes before. Mycroft Holmes was afraid. And Jayne was pretty sure she knew exactly who'd put that fear there. Angrier than she'd ever been in her life, she growled out, "What did that utter bitch do now!?"
Mycroft shuddered and told Jayne what Irene Adler had done, and how now everyone was pretty much in danger because of her. The minute they arrived at Mycroft's home, Jayne jumped from the car and started pacing and raving quietly about how evil and despicable Irene Adler was. Mycroft was rather amused, but also a bit worried about Jayne. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes when she looked at Sherlock and the way both of them were acting so stiffly around each other. He stared at his younger brother; what had the brilliant idiot done now?
When Irene arrived in her own car, Mycroft showed everyone to his study. He tried to persuade Irene to see that there was some way to get the information off of the phone. Sherlock's knowledge of the phone stated otherwise. Jayne sat in the chair and stared at the flames as she listened to them chat back and forth. There Irene laid out her terms. "I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of a nation, but then I'd be lying."
Jayne ground her teeth. She wanted to get up and punch Irene so badly that it felt like it pulsed through her veins.
Mycroft took the paper and looked at it, his eyes widening in shock. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it?" Irene asked.
"Thank you, yes." Mycroft said, still staring at the paper.
"Too bad." Sherlock scoffed. "Off you pop and talk to people," Irene said with a little smile. Jayne gripped the arms of the chair, holding herself there. She was afraid if she stood and started pacing again, it wouldn't take long before she paced herself right over to Irene Adler and planted her fist in the woman's face.
Suddenly Irene brought the fact that Jim Moriarty had played a rather large part in all of this. "I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal," Irene said, laughing lightly.
Jayne had seen Sherlock's face when Irene mentioned Moriarty. "Ooooh shit." Jayne whispered under her breath. With every smart remark Irene made, Sherlock's face became more and more...blank.
"Do you know what he calls you?" Irene teased. "The Ice Man. And The Virgin."
Jayne nearly choked at that. She knew quite well that wasn't true anymore.
"Didn't even ask for anything, I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man," Irene said, sitting on the edge of Mycroft's enormous table.
"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to it's knees," Mycroft said, with just a hint of desperation and respect. "Nicely played."
"No." Sherlock said.
That caught everyone's attention.
"Sorry?" Irene asked, certain she'd misheard.
"I said no. Very, very close, but no. You got carried away. The game was too elaborate, you were enjoying yourself too much," Sherlock said, standing and staring at Irene.
"There's no such thing as too much," Irene said, smirking.
"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize entirely, but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."
"Sentiment?" Irene scoffed. "What are you talking about?"
"You." Sherlock said succinctly.
"Oh dear God." Irene said with a rather surprised look on her face. It annoyed Jayne to no end. "Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why, because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?"
"No." Sherlock said quietly, reaching out to take Irene's wrist. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, just loud enough for Mycroft and Jayne to hear. "Because I took your pulse. Elevated. Pupils dilated." Sherlock continued, as he picked up Irene's phone.
"I imagine John Watson think's love is a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and destructive." he said, not knowing how his words burned through Jayne's heart as well as Irene's. "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you, the combination to your safe-your measurements. But this, this is far more intimate. This is your heart. And you should never let it rule your head."
He began typing in a code. "You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for. But you just couldn't resist it, could you? I've always assumed love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof." he said coldly. Jayne felt herself go numb in the name of self-preservation.
"Everything I said, it's not real," Irene whispered desperately. "I was just playing the game."
"I know," Sherlock said, his eyes still cold. "And this is just losing." He typed in the final letter and revealed it to Irene and Mycroft. "I am SHER locked." it read. He pressed the enter button and the screen cleared, revealing the phone's main screen, complete with data files. Jayne watched as a tear streaked down Irene's cheek.
"There you are brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight." Sherlock said, handing the phone to Mycroft.
"I'm certain they will," Mycroft said, looking over the phone.
"If you're feeling kind, lock her up. Otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her 'protection.'" Sherlock said, walking from the room, his eyes straight ahead, not daring to look at Jayne.
"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene demanded.
"Yes." Sherlock replied, stopping just before the doorway.
"Please." Irene asked. "You're right." Sherlock turned to stare at her. "I won't even last six months."
"I'm sorry about dinner." Sherlock said, as he turned and left, leaving a crying Irene, and a stunned Jayne behind. Mycroft looked at Jayne sadly.
Jayne waited patiently while Mycroft made arrangements for Irene for the night. She hugged him goodnight as he sent her home in one of his cars. Jayne entered her own apartment, her guts churning as she remembered Sherlock's cold words and colder eyes. She sniffed and tears began to flood her vison, slipping past her lashes. She sat on the floor, her back against the apartment door, and cried.