The Reichenbach Fall
Warrant of Silence
Having lost herself in the moment – and in his touch – Rose was jerked back to reality at the sound of her phone ringing.
In that moment, she realised the earlier light from the windows had not only gone, but it was pitch black outside, the faint glow of a street light the only light filtering through to the large room.
While she genuinely hadn't planned on staying so long, it seemed they had lost track of time in their endeavours, Mycroft having locked the door to ensure they weren't interrupted.
Looking around for her phone, Rose tried to make out the dim room, but out of the two of them, the older man found her phone first, seeing the dim light out of the corner of his eye. Smirking, he handed her the phone, having picked up her bra that had been hiding it and holding it out to her, hooked on a finger as he smirked in the dark.
Glaring at his smirk, she looked at the ID and frowned that it was Lestrade. Answering the phone, she started to put her clothes back on, wondering what chaos had occurred in her unplanned afternoon off. "Hello?"
"Hey, Rose," Came the hushed voice of the DI as he spoke quickly. "John wasn't picking up, so I thought I'd try you."
Seeing that something was wrong, Rose frowned, paying full attention now as she turned away from the man in the room with her, his watchful gaze – which had turned to a slight frown at the change in her demeanour - a secondary thought to the call. "What's wrong, Greg?"
The man seemed almost paranoid though. "I can't talk long."
"Then talk quickly," She prompted, trying to be gentle yet wanting him to get on with it. "What's happened?"
She heard him take a breath. "I have an arrest warrant - for Sherlock."
Taking only half a beat, to comprehend his words. "Shit..." She muttered, springing into action as she scrambled to get dressed quickly as she spoke, Mycroft copying her actions as he went to dress as well. "How long?"
"We'll be there in less than 20 mins." He told her.
Checking the time on her phone, she realised it would be a very close call; she was fifteen minutes away, if traffic wasn't too busy. "I'm on my way. And Greg?"
"Yeah?" He asked.
"Thank you," She told him, gratitude and understanding laced through the two small words; she knew what he was risking by telling them.
"Yeah, well..." He started, seeming at a loss for words. "Just do what you do, okay?"
Nodding at the man who couldn't see her, she just responded, "Will do," before hanging up, pulling her shirt over head as she did so and grabbing her trousers.
"What is it?" Mycroft asked, only having caught Rose's half of the conversation since the Detective Inspector had been talking so quietly.
Rose just looked over to him. "Sherlock's about to be arrested."
Letting out a breath, Mycroft gave her a look. "If it's by the book-"
"Don't give me that!" She snapped at him as she went to put her shoes on. "You know it's not, and even still, we both know better. Besides, that's not what worries me."
"What does?" He asked, taking advantage of the rarely displayed emotion of the woman in front of him; it wasn't like her to admit she was worried so flippantly. Perhaps because she's in a rush, he thought.
Rose just gave him a serious look. "Sherlock won't go quietly – it's exactly what Moriarty wants."
"Go," He told her as he went to unlock the door and open it for her – now at least dressed in slightly undone trousers and an open shirt, tie still discarded somewhere - seeing the point she was making. "Look after him."
"I'll try, but he doesn't make it easy." She said with a tired smile, giving him a quick kiss on the lips in parting as she hurried past him and into the shadows of the nearly empty building, starting to dial another number as she tried to reach her flat mates.
Closing the door behind her, the man sighed as he brought a hand up to trace his lips, already missing her touch.
Shaking his head as he tried to dispel such ludicrous thoughts, he frowned as he decided on a drink before dressing fully and continuing his work which had been neglected by the afternoon's impromptu visit from the young woman.
Sat in his chair once more – a fresh drink in hand – he felt oddly conflicted in way that made him rather uncomfortable; a feeling he had experienced slightly earlier in the day, but now was back in full swing.
It took him a while to realise why he felt this way; while she had said she was fine with it, he wasn't happy to be using her, for her mind, or for her body, or even for her close relationship with his brother.
He also didn't like deliberately hiding things from her. He was finding there was most certainly a difference between not telling her the occasional detail that she didn't necessarily need to know, and purposely not telling her something he knew she'd want to know.
Downing his drink, he lingered on the feeling, the knot in his throat twisting once more, knowing she'd be livid if she did ever find out his latest secret.