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This chapter is a little different as I'm taking Kiera away from the case for a bit, you get to meet a friend of hers and it's focusing on Kiera rather than the case or the episode.
Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always appreciated :)
Lying is an art. A lie, a good one anyways, is more than just words said in a moment to cover ones ass. A good lie is planned, prepared and delivered in an ordered, beautiful manner. Every step is in itself a masterpiece. That's what I'm good at. I'm a good liar.
The morning arrived much too soon for mind and body alike, both screaming at me as the shrill alarm resonated through the room. Mycroft must have left that alarm on, because I was in no state to set it myself last night. My mind still swimming in its sleep ridden state, the images it planned to show me as a dream ripped away, I pried an eye open to look for the forsaken aperture. Too long passed before I managed to get my limbs to listen to my brain, now much clearer than before. The warmth of the bed lingered on my body until the split second that my feed hit the wooden floor, a cold shock releasing through my entire being. Mornings were my best time, after any amount of sleep, as my brain was preoccupied with starting my organs and limbs up before attacking me with thoughts. A shiver ripped through me as I threw the covers off completely, listening into the room to find the source of the still ringing horror. I let my eyes glance at myself, realising I sadly also didn't find time to change last night, a side effect of my beloved liquid death. That must mean my make-up was halfway down my face as well, and for the second time this morning I am glad that I live alone. I found the phone on the far corner of the bedroom, how it got there, I couldn't tell you if I wanted to, probably tossed it there at some stage in the night, as I keep my phone close to me at night, careful not to plug it in though.
'You have 3 messages and 2 missed calls'
Oh. That explains why it was in the far corner. I don't take easy to people messaging me in the middle of my rare sleep. Reluctantly I unlock the device and am immediately greeted with another text arriving.
From: MyMy
'What do you think you're doing throwing that phone across your room, do you have any idea how much it cost?
MH'
I start scrolling down to the other messages, which aren't much nicer.
From: MyMy
'it's 7 a.m. if you're gonna go for a run do it now
MH'
From: Provider
'Hi, you missed a call from 'MyMy', press here to call back'
From: MyMy
'I need you awake now, pick up
MH'
The 2 missed calls were from Mycroft, obviously. He is probably ready to kill me right now. Well… What can I do? I just had to sleep, I hadn't done so in the past week, all the more reason I'm glad to live alone. My techniques of relaxing may not be as loud as Sherlock's but I do have my own quirks, one of them being that I play loud melodic dubstep to quiet my brain. The definite beat makes it easier for me to focus on things, one item processed per beat of music, it works, somehow. After a couple of seconds of thinking on the best reply to Mycroft I start typing on the smart phone, which clearly wasn't very smart considering it landed itself in a corner because it wouldn't stop bloody beeping.
To: MyMy
'I was sleeping, appreciate the concern for that. As I'm sure you know I haven't slept in a while, so leave me alone when I do.'
I pressed the send button after proofreading and chucked the phone onto my bed, where it landed with a muffled umpf. Leaving my bedroom I passed a full length mirror and almost mistook myself for an intruder, an intruder from a horror movie, my clothes all messed up and my face smeared in black and red make-up from the night before. Right, I really need a shower.
I had just undressed, having cleaned up my face with makeup remover, and was about to walk in the shower when my doorbell rang, and I had an idea as it who it might be. Thinking nothing of another woman seeing me in merely a towel I marched over and opened the door, turning around before I even looked at the guest and walking to the sitting room. It wasn't until I heard a throat clearing in discomfort that I looked behind me, my eyes widening at who I saw. It wasn't in fact Charlie, but it was two men, one significantly taller than the other.
'Oh, sorry I thought you were someone else', I shrugged, gesturing for them to sit down on the loveseat. The doctor looked at me red cheeked and after letting his gaze wander for a second he averted his eyes onto the floor, his rose tint darkening. A doctor he may be, but he still saw a body for its curves, rather than its medical needs. 'I was about to take a shower, mind waiting for a couple of minutes?' Both men made no movement, so I took it as a go ahead, my shoulder brushing against Sherlock's arm as I walked past. A hushed conversation broke out between the men as they thought I was out of earshot, but I paid no mind to it, I really needed some warm water on my skin right now and could think of little else. The water all but trickled out of the 'power shower turbo 2000' machine, but it was enough to wash shoulder length hair in and it was warm, that's all I want off a shower.
After I was thoroughly soaked in the warm water and squeaky clean I turned the shower off, much to my bodies' discomfort. I towelled myself dry, including my hair which I dried as best as I could, so pretty much not at all. Despite having had longer hair before, I never learnt the skill of towel drying it so it wouldn't drip, though I always observed other women doing it at the local swimming pool. I suppose that skill was beyond me to learn.
Resorting to the noisy blow drier to at least stop my hair from leaving wet drops on my t-shirt I managed to dry it somewhat. After putting it into a messy bun like hairstyle (I literally just bundled it up and stuck a bobbin on it, so it's not really a bun... but it stays up at least) and slap some simple make-up on my face I leave the bathroom dressed in tight black jeans and a simple baby pink button up shirt and make my way into the sitting room.
Sherlock had moved out of his seat, if he ever even sat, and inspected my bookshelf with a cold hard glare, though I could see faint interest glimmer behind his mask. Both men turned as they heard me tap into the room barefoot.
'Sherlock' I nodded a welcome, 'And doctor, I never got your name which makes me quite sad'
'John, John Watson' he introduced himself standing up to shake my hand, which I return. From the handshake alone I could see some things about him, he was very proud and highly loyal, protective over those he liked and more than anything he was honest, mainly because he was a bad liar. Ok the liar part I didn't exactly get from the handshake, that's pretty obvious on the simple fact that his face is extremely expressive and something like that is hard to mask, though with practice he could control it a lot better.
'Kiera Creedon' I returned the introduction.
'We need to use your phone' Sherlock intervened the little happy smiling contest John and I had going on.
'And why is that?' I turned my eyes to meet his light blue ones, their intensity astounding.
'Just send a text to this number' he handed me a phone number on a piece of paper and walked back to my book shelf, still screening the titles. I turned to walk to my bedroom to grab the stupid appliance called a phone and typed in the number on my way back, John smiling at me as soon as he saw me again.
'Ok and what do you want me to write?'
'These words exactly: "What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out."' He dictated and I typed it word for word into my phone, looking up after I was done to signal he could continue if he wanted to, which he did. '"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come."' He looked at me expectantly waiting for me to confirm I sent it.
'This text will go through Mycroft's phone, you know that, right?' I asked him cocking my eyebrow, maybe he hadn't made the connection yet, though somehow I think he did.
'That's why I want you to send it' I shrug and send the message, imagining Mycroft's phone beeping moments later and him reverse checking the number to make sure I'm not going crazy and sending random addresses to even more random numbers. I just hope he doesn't intervene or anything, this is a NSY case and not a secret service file. Sherlock made himself comfortable on the loveseat and moved his hands under his chin, looking like he was in deep thought.
'What's your connection to Mycroft?' he spat his brothers' name, so he either didn't know or didn't acknowledge MyMy's efforts to keep his little brother away from trouble.
'It's none of your concern for now, Sherlock' He looked highly unsatisfied with the answer and I could immediately tell he will press me for more, so I quickly added 'I will tell you when you're ready for it, and you'd be smart not to press me for more, or I won't tell you at all' the fight in his eyes didn't falter, but he realised that my threat was not an idle one, and as long as he had his desire for knowledge he would not let it slip away because of impatience. At least I hope so.
'You blacked out?' John finally asked breaking the little silence that ensued after Sherlock and I had out ceasefire.
'What? No. no!' Sherlock shook his head exasperated, 'we have a killer to catch' he walked to the door, took the Belstaf he hung on the hanger and shrugged it on; John just followed the man blindly, while I didn't move an inch. After all, the command wasn't directed at me. I don't take commands. A few seconds passed until Sherlock turned around and looked at me questioningly. 'Are you not coming?' he, tilting his head.
'I'll pass, I have work to do' John and Sherlock looked at each other pondering the reply, but Sherlock quickly shrugged and left, John hot on his heels like a little pup. Charlie still hadn't arrived, and I promised her I'd meet her when I arrived in England. The door slammed shut and I was finally able to relax my shoulders, which slumped a little. I hadn't even noticed I kept my back straight in front of certain people anymore, makes me seem more in control and definitely stronger than I actually was. Just as I managed to sit down the doorbell rang, and sighing I got back to my feet to open the door. I was greeted with a flash of dye blonde hair and blue eyes which looked down at me from a 5'8" curvy body.
'You've been drinking', her usually angelic voice sounded tainted with anger and frustration as she eyed me suspiciously, pushing herself inside the apartment.
'Case', was my one worded reply.
'You promised'
'Yeah' I sighed, 'I know I did Charlie, but you know me...' Charlie simply replied with shaking her head in disappointment, and that stung more than anger. It was always disappointment rather than the seething anger I received from my parents at the time, anger I can absorb, but the pang of the other emotion was ungraspable for me.
'Charlie... I tried, I really did...' it wasn't a lie; I did try, but...
'Not hard enough' she supplied
'Yeah.'
A pregnant silence enveloped us, but after a while Charlie sprung to her feet from the couch she had been seated on and grabbed my arm.
'C'mon, we have to go shopping! I'm sure your wardrobe is lacking several necessities' she winked, 'considering who you work with now' her grin was now from ear to ear.
'Oh you sly little...' I grinned back, gently slapping her shoulder. She had hacked into the system again, the little fox.
A high pitched giggle escaped her as she dragged me down the steps and into a taxi conveniently waiting for us already, and I let myself get pulled along because what else is a friend for?
'No but honestly, I don't see them like that' she hummed a sarcastic agreement and looked at me knowingly.
'Sure hunny'
'Ok yeah all of em are cute but I swear if you tell anyone...!' my threat left empty as we both smiled at each other but I knew she was already reeling down her contact list to share the news.
'Which one then? The husband, the PTSD Doctor or the arrogant genius? Or maybe the slick haired one?' I grimaced at the last image, 'Ok so not the last one' she grinned.
'All three of them are kind of enticing in their own way, Lestrade is protective and father like, John is gentle and cute, and Sherlock... He's Sherlock.' There was no easy way to explain why Sherlock was interesting, he was a genius and a highly arrogant one at that, as Charlie has aptly summarised, but there was something gravitational about him. He pulled few people in, but repelled many. Perhaps I found myself in the former category.
'He's Sherlock huh' she mused looking out her own window now. We arrived at the mall quickly, and as I turned to pay the cabbie I caught a glimpse of his photo I.D. on the dashboard, immediately recognising him.
'You picked me up from the crime scene'. It was a statement rather than a question, which he simply smiled at from behind spectacle covered eyes and asked for the fare. I shook the uneasy feeling that overcame me at that instance and paid, leaving the change as something beckoned me to leave that cab as fast as possible. It was very rare to have the same cabbie twice in two days, considering how large London is and how many cabbies drive here, something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe it was just luck, but luck is not something I believe in easily.
'Come on Kiera!' I heard Charlie shout from the other side of the road, already walking towards the mall entrance, her hips swinging almost hypnotically as her high heeled legs stepped. If there was ever a woman that I considered perfect, she was it. Though I much prefer her natural, almost auburn hair over the bleached locks that are falling around her face now. I shook my head as a smile ghosted my lips, if only I was half as pretty as her, then I wouldn't have to worry about any locked doors, ever.
Having caught up with the woman's step we turned into the first lingerie shop on the floor, namely Victoria's Secret. Not that I don't like the clothes, the undergarments on display are absolutely gorgeous, but what's the point in spending ridiculous amounts of money I don't have on pieces of clothing that no one will ever see? At least not in the foreseeable future anyways. Charlie made me try on many sets, from frilly pink corsets to black lace, finally settling on a black and red set that was absolutely stunning. Too bad it was for my eyes only. Later we went down to some clothes shops where Charlie had me try on more pieces than I ever set my eyes on, and after we (read: She) decided on a few drapes that looked well enough on me we went to the local pub. Nothing like a drink after a good shopping trip.
'So, what's your plan now hunny?' she asked me looking over her pint of Guinness.
'Solve cases I guess, I don't really know yet Charlie. I'm afraid that the cases are gonna make my habit worse, and I can't let em down more than I already have, y'know?' I let my voice slip back to the Irish accent I grew up around, though it was as little my own as anything else on or around me at the moment.
'hmm' she hummed her agreement. Though I had my virgin mojito standing in front of me, the straw inviting me to take a sip, the drink remained untouched. 'The waiter is cute' she glanced sideways, indicating the man that had been serving us (read: Her) with drinks all night, smiling shyly at her from a distance and prancing at her every word.
'Has a thing for you' I nodded, 'Not surprising if you ask me' she laughed wholeheartedly at my comment, though she knows I'm right. Any man that set eyes on her that ain't gay or blind fell for her.
'So Sherlock, huh?', she asked taking another sip from her black drink.
'What about him?' my eyes narrowed at her. What was she implying?
'You have a thing for him.'
'Nah, nuhu, nada, nope. He's an arrogant prick, is all he is' shaking my head I reached for my drink and take a sip, grimacing at the lack of alcohol. No virgin drink ever tasted as good as its naughty counterpart.
'Oh yes you do hunny. You just don't see it yet' what?
'How's that make any sense? If anyone would know it, it's me. These are my feelings you're claiming to know, my own emotions that I feel and no one else, what's in that drink?' mockingly I pick the drink up and sniff it experimentally, then take a small sip to confirm it wasn't drugged. That girl been talking some weird shit for a while now.
'So naive' she mused as I gave the drink back to her.
'So dumb' I grumbled into my drink.
'Wanna hit something harder? At least you won't be completely alone and drinking alone is the worst thing you can do dear' she reached her hand out to rub my cheek, and I let her willingly. It was a mothers touch that she used on me, a touch I hadn't had much time to grow accustomed to when I was a child.
'Ye' I simply nodded and she beckoned the waiter who didn't waste any second to bring us our drinks, Charlie had a whiskey on rocks while I got myself tonic and gin. Our conversation grew more and more relaxed as the drinks kept getting refilled, and soon we had to bid our goodnights to each other as the bar was closing.
'Thanks for the shopping Charlie', I kissed the woman on her cheek as the taxi rolled up behind me.
'No bother hun, let me know when you need some more time to relax, ok?' she kissed me back and we hugged briefly. Throughout the entire day her sickly sweet vanilla perfume held perfectly, mine always vanished into thin air after 10 minutes.
'Will do' I smile and pack my bags onto the back seat of the cab, sitting myself behind the driver, safest spot.
'Where to?' the cabbie asked, turning around to smile at me behind spectacle covered eyes.
'You' I gasped, but before I could say anything else his hand darted forward and I felt a prick in my neck. It was incredibly itchy and I tried to bring my hand up to scratch, but it wouldn't listen. Then I tried to move my legs, but they wouldn't budge either. Panic started setting in, but I willed it to wait, if I panic now I loose. A paralytic. The bastard gave me a paralytic. Just before my eyes fluttered closed for the last time and I lost all control, my mind was screaming for help, showing me the face of the one person I trusted to save me.
The face of Mycroft Holmes.