Let's try this again, shall we?
I hadn't been planning on updating just yet, but since I've written the next chapter a few times and am happy with none of them, I figured it was a bit unfair to make you wait for this one.
Sorry for mistakes I've made and missed. I only own any OC's.
BIG THANK YOU TO: bored411 (I have some big plans for Roid, don't worry)
ErikaconlaK (thank you)
MageVicky (There is a slight insinuation in this chapter - I do apologise - but it won't long)
Kairi (Thank you)
Guest 2.0 (Thank you, I simultaneously love and hate writing Roid into a chapter. I'm glad it had the desired effect.)
nofilter (That's an idea I may just use)
Always-Be-Batman (Hopefully you enjoy this chapter)
16 (Thanks for writing in the review box) (It's not letting me write your full username for some reason?)
Upon returning home, Emily had swiftly kicked her heels off and taken her hair down from its ponytail.
She took a seat at the table in the kitchen with some food from Speedy's and John sat down with her. She desperately hoped he wouldn't begin winding her up about Sherlock in his sheet, but instead began to ask her about what had happened with Roid. The pair of them followed Sherlock with their eyes as he made his way to his bedroom as they discussed her bosses tantrums.
Just as John asked her what she thought might happen in the morning (he had seen her worrying in the cab on the way home) they heard what sounded like Sherlock throwing things around in his room. They attempted to ignore him, but it was as if the man only became louder the longer they tried to talk.
John sent her an irritated look, to which she smirked around a mouthful of food. "What are you doing?" He finally addressed the Detective.
"Going into battle, John. I need the right armour." They both turned to watch as the Detective inspected himself in the high visibility jacket he had tried on. "No." Emily rolled her eyes. Had he suddenly turned into a sixteen year old female? One that was worried about impressing a date?" "Go and get changed Emily!" He called out to her.
She held a hand in front of her mouth so John would not catch a glimpse of her half chewed food. "Why?"
"Because I told you to." Clearly she was mistaken. She was the one who had turned into the sixteen year old and Sherlock the disapproving parent.
"But I'm not coming with you." John shook his head, knowing she was wrong just as Emily looked back up again, sandwich halfway to her mouth, when she saw him move back into the doorway. This time donning a leather jacket.
He sent her a look that suggested otherwise but she completely missed it; too focused on how he looked at that moment; slightly dishevelled hair from rushing around, black shirt (she was no longer sure if she preferred this one or the purple one) really, the only thing that could have made the look better was if the shirt was untucked. Maybe some jeans too, but she couldn't imagine the man in jeans. She cleared her throat and stood to go to her room, abandoning the last corner of sandwich. "Yeah alright." If only to get away from John's knowing look and the sight of the Detective. She'd already let her mind wonder with the image of him in the sheet, she wasn't sure she could take the image of him in that jacket.
She traipsed upstairs, listening to John as he informed Sherlock: "Better keep that one just for Em." If the Detective replied, she never heard him.
8888888
She had managed to rid herself of her skirt, but got distracted by her book and had lay down reading it for the past twenty minutes. But at the sound of footsteps getting closer, she quickly stood from the bed - ignoring the dizzy spell that overcame her - and picked up her skirt again to at least cover herself just as the door flew open.
On the bright side, it wasn't Roid barging in this time. But that was the only bright side.
"No, no, no. Don't put that back on." He snatched the skirt from her and tossed it onto her bed. Luckily her blouse was just long enough to cover her underwear. "Jeans." He informed her staring intently at her legs.
"Hang on! You haven't even changed!" He had merely put his scarf and coat back on. All that mess and fuss for nothing!
"I've been ready for the past ten minutes. Jeans! And a jumper!"
She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. "Am I allowed to keep this blouse on, or would you prefer something else?"
"You won't need a blouse on under a jumper. It's summer." He reminded her sarcastically. They both stood and watched each other. Both waiting. Sherlock for Emily to hurry up and finish changing. Emily for Sherlock to hurry up and get out so she could finish changing. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Hurry up then!"
"Get out first!"
"What, why?"
"What do you mean 'what, why'? Because I don't really want to take my blouse off with you in here!"
"I've seen you in a bikini?"
"That was different!"
"How?"
"Just - " She quickly moved towards him and Sherlock, either not expecting it or slightly worried about how angry she currently felt and therefore looked, backed up onto the landing.
He made to move as if he was coming back in and make sure she changed, but she took the opportunity to slam the door in his face. "Don't even think about it!" She yelled just at the same time he lifted a hand to open it again.
8888888
Emily had managed to nab the window seat so it was currently Sherlock that was squished in the middle. She hadn't looked over at him at all for the entire ride and had opted instead to once again watch London pass by. The three had been silent for a while; Sherlock hadn't wanted to speak to Emily either, and John hadn't been sure how to break the icy atmosphere.
Until now. "So, what's the plan?" He questioned.
"We know her address."
"You know her address." Emily grumbled to the window, not particularly caring if she was heard or not.
"What, just ring her doorbell?" John looked over at Sherlock but flicked his gaze between his two flatmates. He wished he'd got to the middle seat before Sherlock had, maybe he could have distracted the blonde.
"Exactly. Just here, please." He called out to the driver.
"You didn't even change your clothes."
"That's what I said." They both looked over at her, or rather the back of her head as she still hadn't looked round.
"Then it's time to add a splash of colour."
The vehicle stopped, Emily quickly vacating as Sherlock paid for them. She waited next to John studying the surrounding area, despite not really taking anything in, in an attempt to still not look at the Detective.
He lead the way down an alley. Surely the address would not be down here? Though it was still a lovely looking area, Emily had imagined Miss Adler's place to have been a bit more...spectacular if the photos were anything to go by.
Emily trailed behind the boys now, wondering what was going on as Sherlock threw his scarf to her. Though it was really more at her since it landed on her head.
"Hold this." He mumbled to her as he circled back so he was facing John.
"We here?" John asked as Emily wrapped the scarf around her neck, discreetly taking a whiff of it and instantly very much enjoying it. A hint of his soap and something she couldn't quite place.
"Uh, two streets away, but this'll do."
"For what?" John looked at the blonde as if she might know what he was talking about, but she could only shrug.
They watched as Sherlock gestured to his cheek, "Punch me in the face." He ordered, Emily's eyes widening.
"Punch you?"
"Yes. Punch me, in the face." He gestured again to his cheek, "Didn't you hear me?"
"I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually sub-text."
Emily sniggered from the side line. "I'll do it." Sherlock sent her an offended look. "What?"
Clearly fed up with the situation, Sherlock took measures into his own hands. "Oh, for God's sakes." He punched John in the face and instantly the Doctor grunted with pain, reeling back from the blow. Emily, open mouthed with shock that Sherlock would so easily hit their friend watched, immobile, as Sherlock shook his hand out of its fist. He sent her a pleased with himself smirk that quickly vanished as she spoke.
"John." She managed to look over at the Doctor just as he straightened himself back up. And he did not look happy. "John!" She tried again but the punch he landed on the Detective looked...painful.
"Ow!"
"Are you alright?" She asked John as he shook his own fist out, he nodded back to her, examining his knuckles.
Sherlock stood, hand on his cheek, evidently happy with the results of the fight he had just started. "Thank you. That was – that was..." But whatever that was she would never know because John...well, it looked as if he'd either punched Sherlock in the stomach or body slammed him to the ground. Perhaps it was a little of both.
Somehow, and she really hadn't the foggiest idea how it had happened (she had only glanced away for a matter of seconds to check the time) John had ended up on Sherlock's back, the Detective doubled over as he was being half strangled.
"Okay! I think we're done now, John. EMILY!" The blonde moved away from the wall she had been leaning on, walking over apprehensively, not wanting to get on John's bad side.
"You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier. I killed people." She wanted to get on his bad side even less at the sound of his vicious tone.
"You were a doctor!"
"I had bad days!"
"Emily!"
"John." She called. Nothing. "John!" She wouldn't be surprised if there were a crowd of people watching, but after a quick check at the opening of the alley, there was thankfully no one. "Sorry John." She said as she heard the sounds of Sherlock choking. She ran her fingers through John's hair before giving it a sharp tug.
"AHH!" He relieved most of his grip on the Detective to turn to her. The Detective taking a welcome gulp of air. "What was that for?"
"You were killing him, get up!" She pulled him off by the arm and reached back down for Sherlock who was still doubled over.
"Why didn't you help sooner?" Sherlock shouted, his voice only the slightest bit roughened.
"You asked him to punch you!" She exclaimed.
"Yes, but not rugby tackle me to the ground and almost kill me!"
"You'll have to be more specific next time then, won't you? You're welcome for the help by the way!" But Sherlock had already walked off, back down to the opening of the alley, pausing as he checked his two companions were following. Emily checked on John as they walked, but he merely waved her off.
As they caught up to him and waited for him to lead the way, he took from his pocket a long white rectangle object and began to tidy himself up - buttoning his shirt and straightening his coat. Wincing in pain as he moved, he slipped the dog collar under his shirt collar and did up the top buttons.
"That's your armour?" Emily asked.
"What's wrong with it?" His voice had already returned to normal.
"Do you really think she'll fall for it?
"Why wouldn't she?" He began leading the way again.
"Well, she's 'power playing the most powerful family in Britain' according to you, and you think she'll fall for that?" Emily stated, slowing down so she could walk beside John. "What are we in this then, if you're a Vicar?"
"Spectators." Sherlock stated.
"Spectators of what?" John asked.
"A Vicar being attacked. You'll need to stick around to give a statement to the Police and you're also a Doctor who can mend me up while we wait."
"So much trouble for one woman?" She rolled her eyes.
"And Em? What about her?"
"Another spectator."
"Two separate spectators in an area this posh?" John asked, forming a plan in his mind. "She can be my wife."
"Well - "
"Oh, yeah ok." Emily spoke up agreeing instantly, not realising John's words had an ulterior motive.
"No, I was thinking more - "
"Are we going then or not?" Emily asked, stepping into the dutiful wife role taking John's hand, interlinking their fingers and lightly swinging them backwards and forwards.
John raised an eyebrow at the Detective, whose expression had turned dark.
With one last sour look at their hands, he moved off again. "Here we are." He announced moments later, sounding thoroughly miserable. He wasted no time in pressing the buzzer and while he waited for a reply, got himself into character.
"Hello?" A woman's voice sounded, but Emily was too busy fussing over John to listen to what was going on.
"Are you alright? That was quite a fight he started." John inspected his knuckles, but he had somehow not managed to break the skin.
"I think so."
"Nothing broken?"
"Doubt it."
"...Thank you. Thank you so much." They both heard the Detective say, holding a handkerchief up to his bleeding cheek.
Whoever he had been crying to had buzzed him in. "Looks like we're in." John mumbled to her squeezing the hand within his own as they followed Sherlock in.
"Thank you." He continued his acting as the entered the large hall. "Er, ooh!"
John closed the door behind them. "We - we saw it all happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor. This is my wife." A red headed woman was leaning against a table, arms folded. Evidently the one to have let them in, though Emily thought the nod she sent them was a little fake and she felt as if this woman knew exactly what was going on. Judging by the sparkle in her eyes as she and Emily made eye contact, Emily was right. "Now, have you got a first aid kit?"
"In the kitchen. Please." She encouraged them to come through.
"Oh! Thank you!"
"Thank you."
"Thanks." Emily felt she should get involved somehow.
Sherlock sat himself down on a rather uncomfortable looking leather couch. "Right, we'll grab the first aid kit." John informed them, but the red head had somehow disappeared as they'd all made their way into the living room. "Ok, well, we'll be back in a sec." Having not let go of Emily's hand, he took her with him into the kitchen that, much like the rest of the house was huge.
"Check the cupboards first Em."
"Alright then husband." She wandered off in the opposite direction he did and began to open cupboard doors one at a time.
"Found anything?" John asked after a few minutes and checked over his shoulder to make sure she was actually still looking. "What are you doing in the fridge?"
"Seeing what rich people have in them."
"You're meant to be looking in the cupboards."
"Hmm. Ok." She said distractedly, grabbing a block of cheese that she never seen before. It smelt awful. "What am I looking for again?" She asked distractedly.
John sighed, moving over to close the fridge door before she could try eating anything from inside it. "We were looking for the first aid kit."
"Oh, did you find it?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where are the bowls? I'm sure you've come across those?" He moved back over to the next cupboard and found the green first aid box. He took out what he needed as he heard Emily scrape a bowl onto the counter. "Any napkins around?" He rolled his eyes as he watched her go straight to the object he was after. She evidentially had been busy snooping around while his back was turned.
"How was your night out with Mike last night?" She asked, bringing over the items as he placed the box back into its home.
"Great fun actually. Bit tired now though, especially with all this travelling. You should come next time." He nudged her with his elbow.
"Only if you introduce me to him as Mrs Emily Watson." She sent him a smile, followed by a breathy laugh. "Imagine the look on his face." Now John laughed along with her. "Mrs Emily Watson. It does have a certain ring to it doesn't it?"
"It certainly does." He played along with the friendly banter.
"No offence though, but I don't ever want to get married. All that fuss and money spent." She was shaking her head to herself. John wondered where this was coming from but reasoned she was probably doing everything to not think about going back to work tomorrow. If this was what it took to help distract her, then he would go along with it.
"None taken." He leant on the counter next to her, "Not even if you were so in love with someone?"
"Eugh."
"So no then." He chuckled again.
"Even if I did fall 'so in love' with someone that person would also be more than fine with not getting married. That would be one of the things that made them right for me I guess." She shrugged and John instantly understood what she meant. "What about you though? Would you ever get married?"
"Such personal questions for so early in the day."
"You're my best friend John and I've just realised I don't know if you'd ever want to get married to someone. Can I be a Bridesmaid if you do?"
"You'd have to ask my currently non existent future wife."
"She might not like me though."
"Now, you see, that would be one reason why I wouldn't marry that person. If they don't like you, they aren't the right one for me."
"That's so sweet." She beamed up at him and hugged his arm. "What about if they don't like Sherlock?"
"Let's not speak too soon. I don't want to be single forever." Emily laughed.
"You have a date tonight, don't you?"
"How did you know?"
"You texted me yesterday while you were out with Mike. You asked me not to let you sleep in too long because you needed to get ready."
A female voice floated past the kitchen door and though they couldn't see her they both came to the same silent conclusion that is was Irene Adler. The two shared a look and and knew it was time to head back to the other room.
"Em." He paused just after he had started to move. "Stop worrying about work tomorrow. It's distracting you far too much." He tucked some hair behind her ear with his free hand. "Now!" He was far more cheerful now that he had moved on from the very short speech about her job. "Come along then Mrs Watson! To the patient!"
She dutifully followed behind him as he made his way into the living room. Until she looked down and noticed her shoe had come untied. "Oh, hold on." She spoke at the same time as John said, "Right, this should do it." She stood back up straight and manoeuvred around John to stand next to him. "We've missed something, haven't we?"
Before them, was Sherlock, still seated where they had left him, only now he had the addition of a naked woman hovering, straddled over his lap.
"Ooh, Nice shoes!" The three turned to face the blonde. "Are they those um, what are they called? Louis Button things?" She was greeted with nothing but silence. "What?" She shrugged at Miss Adler who sent her a smirk as best she could whist holding the dog collar between her teeth.
"That's what you've noticed?" The Doctor asked, turning back to the sight before them.
"Yeah."
"Really? Nothing else?"
"Well, obviously. I'm not blind am I?"
"But yet, you still comment on the shoes?"
"What else should I say? Nice tits? It's also not as if she doesn't have anything I haven't seen before." Emily stared at John who hadn't even glanced at her once during their conversation.
The woman took the collar from her mouth and dismounted from the couch and therefore Sherlock, eyeing Emily up and down as she did so. "It's Louboutin." She informed the blonde. "Tempting aren't they?" Emily nodded in response, though she struggled with heels, she wouldn't mind a pair of those like Miss Adler wore. Maybe not to wear, maybe just to admire. Whilst still in the shoebox. (She would never take them out, she'd instantly make them dirty.) "Please, sit down. Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid."
"I had some at the Palace." Sherlock informed her.
"I know." She sat down in the armchair, crossing her legs and folding her arms, obscuring the view. Surely that seat was cold on her bare skin? Emily thought to herself.
"Clearly."
Emily opted to ignore the way the two stared at one another and looked down at the ground.
John took note of this and decided to break the tension in the room. "We had a tea, too, at the Palace, if anyone's interested."
"And Jammie Dodgers." Emily perked up meekly. She mentally scolded herself for sounding so childlike. She lifted her gaze to the pair and together, she and John watched as Sherlock took it in turns to study each of them. She wondered what he could be deducing about them and whether or not he could tell she was fighting off a feeling she did not like.
"D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes? However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."
"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" He reached up to undo his top buttons.
"No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." Emily couldn't help but agree there. "Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too." The woman glanced over at Emily. "Where did you learn to punch that hard?"
"Well my brother taught me - "
"Half brother." Sherlock stated, not even looking over at her.
"My half brother taught me when I was young," Emily finally caught on to what the woman was getting at and immediately blushed. "But it was actually John."
John forced a laugh, "Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all." He glanced down at the contents in his hand. "A napkin."
"Why? Are you feeling exposed?"
"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock stood, coat in hand and for a moment Emily wondered if they were leaving already.
"No, I think he knows exactly where." Irene stood too, moving to stand closer to the Doctor. Emily couldn't help but feel it was a challenge of some sort and she watched as he managed to maintain eye contact with her. "Not sure about you, though I have a suspicion." But Sherlock had only been offering his coat as a way to cover herself up. She took it from him. Emily had gone back to admiring the heels the woman before them wore. "Emily's too busy eyeing my heels." Though it felt like a jab, the brief lift of the corner of her mouth told Emily it was anything but.
"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop."
"You do borrow my laptop."
"I confiscate it."
"Is there a difference?" Emily asked.
"There's plenty difference." Sherlock answered. She hadn't been expecting one and looked over at the Detective to find him looking intently at her as he moved to stand in front of the fireplace.
"Oh, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know." She wrapped herself up in the Detectives coat, buttoning it up as she spoke. She walked over to the couch and sat herself down. "How was it done?"
"What?"
She released her feet from the heels. "The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?" John looked down at Emily to find her just as perplexed, if not more so since neither of them had filled her in on the case they had been working on before being taken to the Palace.
"That's not why I'm here."
"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway..."
"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" John walked closer to the couch, leaving Emily still standing by the door.
"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes."
"Oh." He sat down next to her. "And you like policemen?"
"I like detective stories. Emily does too don't you?" But the woman gave her no chance to reply. "And detectives. Emily does too, don't you Emily? Brainy's the new sexy." She looked over at the blonde. "You don't have to stay standing, you are allowed to sit down." She indicated the space next to her that John had left. "I won't bite." She sent her a seductive smirk. "Unless that's what you like?"
"Positionofthecar..." The three stared at the Detective who quickly pulled himself together and started pacing. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."
"Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?"
"He wasn't."
"You don't think it was murder?"
"I know it wasn't." Emily had watched him closely and if she hadn't been, she would have missed the way his eyes flickered over at her to make sure she was listening.
"How?"
"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room."
"Okay, but how?"
"So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in. Take Emily with you."
John stood, placing his first aid tools down on the table grabbing Emily's hand and taking her from the room. He reached around her to close the door. "What are we doing?" She asked.
"Raising an alarm."
"Huh?"
"You'll see. Just help me find something to light up." They moved towards the marble topped table against the wall.
"Have you got a - " She spun from eyeing up the stuff on top to find John digging in his coat pocket. He retrieved a "lighter? The one from the Palace?"
"The very same." He allowed her a closer look as he lifted a magazine and rolled it up.
"When did you two plan this?"
"While you were changing." He lit the magazine and started wafting it around in the air, marching up and down to ensure the alarms went off.
"What do you think they're doing in there?" She asked, sounding more concerned than she wanted to.
"Worried?" John asked as he walked back to her before going back off again.
"No." She answered far too quickly. "She is very pretty though." She muttered to herself.
"You're prettier." John commented, going past again. "Here, hold this." He offered her the magazine, taking hold of her wrist and moving them to the closest fire alarm which happened to be above the stairs.
"Why?"
"Brace yourself Em."
"What for? OH!" He had crouched down to lift her by her legs so the smoke would set the alarm off quicker. Not particularly enjoying her current position but also knowing the sooner it went off the sooner John would put her down, she raised the magazine as high as she could. Seconds later the annoying sound started and she was gently lowered back to the ground. As she looked towards the doorway they had just come through, John took the magazine back from her grasp and attempted to blow it out.
"Do we need to turn it off now? How the hell is anyone supposed to reach that thing?" But John was still struggling with putting out the tiny fire. Emily walked over to assist, but frowned when John wouldn't let her touch it.
"All right, John, you can turn it off now." Sherlock called to the Doctor.
"We need some water." Emily insisted, but neither of them moved to get any.
"I said you can turn it off now." Sherlock tried again.
"Give us a minute." He started whacking it in the table, holding an arm out in front of Emily to stop her from getting closer as sparks began to fly up from the paper.
"Shall I get us a glass of water?" But she never got an answer as both she and John heard the sound of footsteps quickly coming down the stairs. Together, they both turned and witnessed four men running down. The one at the front raised a gun and fired at the smoke alarm.
"Oh thank God." Emily sighed in relief at the silence it left them with but quickly found her relief turned to fear when the men continued towards them rapidly, aiming their guns at them. John dropped the magazine, raising his hands into the air. Emily doing the same but taking the time to stamp on the paper to put its fire out.
When she looked up at them all they were watching them closely. "Wouldn't want to burn would we?"
"Thank you." Emily wasn't sure if John's words were directed at her for putting the fire out or the men for getting rid of the alarm.
"Now what?" Emily asked after none of them moved.
"Just a moment Miss Cooper." The man who she supposed was in charge informed her. Why was there an American here? And why were they currently not doing anything?
After what felt like hours, though she reasoned it was only because she had a gun pointed at her, the American finally shoved the door to the living room open again.
"Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still." He announced.
One of the men pushed Emily with the tip of his gun so she would move into the room after John. "Sorry, Sherlock." The Doctor said. The man with her roughly shoved her to the ground.
With her arms still raised above her head, she chanced a look over her shoulder and made eye contact with him. "Ow." She deadpanned. She instantly regretted it, as with his free hand he took a fistful of her hair and tugged hard to make her face forwards again.
"Ms Adler, on the floor." The American instructed.
Emily looked from the corner of her eye, since she couldn't move her head, and noted the amount of space between her and John. Her only wish at that moment was that she could move closer so she was directly next to him.
"Don't you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked.
The man holding Emily tightened his grip on her hair making her wince. She had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't release the hiss of pain. She would not give him the satisfaction.
"No, sir, I want you to open the safe."
"American. Interesting. Why would you care?" The Detective asked as if that was really the most important thing at that moment in time.
"Sir, the safe, now, please."
"I don't know the code."
"We've been listening. She said she told you."
"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't."
"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr Holmes." This time, as the grip tightened all the more, Emily couldn't help but release a grunt of pain.
"For God's sake. She's the one who knows the code. Ask her." John informed them upon hearing the blonde in pain.
"Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman."
"Mr Holmes doesn't..."
"Shut up. One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship." Emily wished she could add something to the tense conversation, but didn't want to risk losing her hair. Or being scalped. "Mr Thompson. At the count of three, shoot Miss Cooper." Emily rolled her eyes.
"What?" John asked.
"I don't have the code." Sherlock told them.
"Mr Archer, if that doesn't work, at the count of five, it's Doctor Watson's turn."
"One."
Emily's head was thrown forward as it was released, almost causing her to fall forwards. She managed to catch herself before she could land face first on the floor and sat back up straight before she could look too much like a fool. The relief of not having his grip on her hair was instant, but the panic that she may be about to get shot was too.
"I don't know the code." Sherlock stated and Emily wondered if he was getting a little frantic as she felt the barrel placed against the side of her forehead.
"Two."
"She didn't tell me. I don't know it!" His voice was rising.
"I'm prepared to believe you any second now."
Emily closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, though she was unsure if it was to calm herself down or so she wouldn't have to watch Sherlock look over at Irene.
"Three." Emily squeezed her eyelids tighter at the word.
"No! Stop!" She released a shaky breath and risked looking over at Sherlock. He was watching her wide eyed and she wished at that moment she could read his mind.
He slowly turned back to the safe, lowering his arms to focus on the key pad.
After only a few seconds hesitation he began pressing the buttons and the thought of what might happen if he got this wrong didn't really bear thinking about. She released a shaky breath when she heard a beep, and the fact that no one had started shooting at them surely meant it had been the correct code.
"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please."
Emily heard the handle twist, but it took a moment for anything else to happen. That was until Sherlock's voice broke urgently through the silence that had descended. "Vatican Cameos."
The safe opened and the man holding John went down. Emily, instead of ducking - knowing she wouldn't be in any firing line - moved so she was standing in front of the one holding her, ignoring the pain in her knees. Before he could grab hold of her however, she beamed at him, serving only to confuse him all the more and just as she had done to John not long ago and despite their height difference, grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked as hard as he had pulled hers. As he howled in pain, attempting to point his gun at her, she swatted it away, pulling even harder before letting go completely and making a fist. Much as John had done earlier she reached her arm back but aimed at his crotch.
While he was doubled over in pain, she grabbed onto the sides of his head, holding it in place, and firmly kneed him in the face.
Her jeans would need to go in the wash to rid them of the blood splatter that accumulated.
Noticing his gun abandoned on the floor, she picked it up and though wasn't one hundred percent certain what to do with it, aimed it at him to ensure he would not get back up. Though now she looked, it seemed as though he had passed out on the floor.
She discarded the weapon on the table, not liking the feeling of it in her hands and straightened herself up, touching her scalp and wincing when she felt how tender he'd made it.
"You alright?" She heard Sherlock ask but not realising he was talking to her focused on John who had come over to check her man still had a pulse. "Emily." She looked back at him over her shoulder waiting for him to continue. "I said, are you alright?"
She only nodded once in return, concentrating on John who had gone on to lift the man's eyelids up. "What's the verdict?"
"That's one hell of a broken nose." John looked up at her and she wasn't sure if he was disappointed or proud of her. "Think you almost ripped his scalp off." He commented, only half joking.
"Shouldn't have pulled at mine then." Emily sniffed and turned away. End of discussion.
"D'you mind?" Sherlock asked Irene from across the room.
"Not at all." Emily watched the woman slam the gun against her mans face, effectively knocking him unconscious. John moved back over to his own man, checking if he had somehow survived the gunshot from the safe.
"He's dead." John announced standing up.
"You don't say." Emily muttered sarcastically, moving away to avoid getting her Converse covered in his blood.
"Thank you. You were very observant." Irene stated.
"Observant?" Both John and Emily asked at the same time.
"I'm flattered." She continued, ignoring the confused pair.
"Don't be." Sherlock said. "I've known Emily's since she moved in." What the hell did he mean?
"Flattered?" The pair spoke again. Emily shook her hand out. The pain of punching him was finally noticeable. "Hang on, known my what?"
"There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building." Emily followed after her flatmates as they left the room, not particularly wanting to stay near Miss Adler or the men on the floor. It didn't help she was beginning to get a whiff of chlorine. What had Sherlock been talking about? Known my what? The question may just drive her mad.
"So now what?" She questioned trying to keep up with the boys as they made their way back outside.
"We should call the police." John answered.
"Yes." Emily recoiled at the sudden sound of the gun firing into the air, clutching onto John's arm as he pulled her back from getting too close. "On their way." He turned and began to head back inside but stopped Emily from doing the same. "Wait out here." He told her, not even glancing at her.
"For God's sake!"
"Oh shut up. It's quick."
"John, I'm not waiting out here." Emily informed him, with no room for an argument. He took her hand again and led her back into the house.
"Check the rest of the house. See how they got in." Sherlock ordered John. "I told you to wait outside." Though his tone didn't sound the least surprised that she had done the exact opposite of what he had told her to do.
"She's not waiting out there by herself. What if there's more of them?"
"There - "
"She's coming with me Sherlock!" John practically shouted to the whole street and together he and Emily made their way up the stairs. They first opened the door that took them to a lavatory room. Aside from a very posh looking toilet and sink, there was nothing.
At the end of the landing the door to the bedroom was wide open. "Come on." John guided her towards it and as soon as they were through the doorway the sight of the red headed woman from downstairs passed out on the floor greeted them. John was instantly by her side.
"Sherlock!" He called out, kneeling down next to her.
"Anything I can do?" She watched, crouching down on the woman's other side, as John rested two fingers against her wrist, leaning down to put his ear near her mouth to check her breathing.
"She's fine."
"Ambulance?"
"Probably one on its way after Sherlock shooting that bloody gun." He commented dryly, standing and going to take a look into the en suite. Emily brushed the stray strands of hair away from the woman's face before standing herself and taking a seat on the bed. It didn't take long for Sherlock to join them. Miss Adler too.
"Must have come in this way."
"Clearly."
"It's all right. She's just out cold." John told her.
"Well, God knows she's used to that." Emily's eyebrows shot up again. What on earth could this woman 'like' to be used to such things? "There's a back door. Better check it, Doctor Watson. Take Emily with you." Emily strongly disliked it when people did that. Both she and John looked over at Sherlock, who had now left the bathroom to join them. He nodded and Emily rolled her eyes.
"Sure." Judging by John's tone, he didn't exactly like it either. "Come on Em, let's leave the lover's to it." Though a breathy laugh escaped her lips, she couldn't help but feel the wave of sadness that cascaded through her. She took the offered hand of the Doctor's and allowed him to guide her downstairs once more. "I didn't mean lover's - " He attempted to backtrack, walking through the kitchen.
"But the way they look at each other suggests they do?" Emily's voice sounded weak, even to her, and she immediately knew this was her confession to John that she liked the Detective.
"You noticed it too, did you?" John rattled the handle of the back door, though he was more concerned about the blonde by his side. As far as he was concerned they hadn't needed to check this door.
"Hard to miss." She sighed.
"Well, if it's any consolation, I see the way he looks at you as well. And he was definitely watching you closely in there. You just don't always see him looking. Believe me I do." Emily pulled a face at him that told him she had no idea what he was talking about. "Look, maybe this conversation isn't one we should be having here. I don't even think it's a conversation I should really be part of. Let's just get back upstairs. The Police should be here soon." He gave her no option and he pulled her away and back up the stairs.
"Jesus. What are you doing?" John asked and for a moment Emily wondered what he was talking about. On the floor was Sherlock, and it appeared as if he was having some trouble doing anything other than lying on the floor trying to get up.
"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse." Emily had rushed over and knelt beside him. She had no idea what she was doing, so opted to place a hand on his cheek and hope he could feel it while she waited for John to come over and assess the damage.
"What's this? What have you given him? Sherlock!"
"He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends."
John knelt down on Sherlock's other side, "Sherlock, can you hear me?"
"You know, I was wrong about him." John stood again, but Emily opted to focus on the man on the floor. "He did know where to look."
"For what? What are you talking about?"
"The key code to my safe." Emily looked away from him and faced the woman, moving her hand from his face to his hand.
"What was it?"
"Shall I tell them?" Irene asked the Detective, who had briefly turned his head to look at her as he attempted to squeeze Emily's hand. Outside, the Police sirens sounded and Emily hoped there would be an ambulance too.
"My measurements." Emily watched the woman push her feet against the edge of her bathtub and toppled back out of the window. While John hurried over to look out, supposedly in an attempt to see which way she would go, Emily turned back to the man on the floor who had gone back to gazing at her as he aimed to stand. She placed her free hand on his shoulder to hold him down but when it didn't work she took his scarf that she still wore around her neck and bundled it up, placing it under his head the next time he attempted to stand so he wouldn't keep banging his head on the floor.
"Em." John walked over to her and pulled her to stand and move away from the Detective, allowing a couple of paramedics to tend to him.
It was only as they were leaving the house, John still holding onto her, worried she may try and hold onto Sherlock again and following him to the hospital in one of the police cars, that Emily wondered if whatever it was that Sherlock had known since she had moved in had been her measurements.
I sincerely hope I haven't bodged this chapter up.
I know there wasn't very much interaction between Irene and Emily, but there will be more in the future.
Please do leave a little something in the review box. Even a smiley face is more than enough.
Stay Safe.
Take Care.
Much love.
FB