Here we are, chapter 27! yay! I am not sure, but did you maybe not get an email that the last chapter was posted because usually at least two of you review and I didn't get reviews until very late (one or two days later, it's okay if you don't want to [even though I loooooove them] but I am just a bit worried).
What do you think about Sherlock: the network? I would love to have it but a) i live in germany and b) I don't have a smart-phone... :(
I hope you like this chapter and there aren't any logical mistakes in here, I have the feeling that there are but I couldnt find any...
And I'll repeat it again because my friend freaked out when she read this (which is actually about two or three months ago now - oh gosh, time flies), this is NOT a romance story. Kiara is not in love with Sherlock!
The weather is surprisingly warm here in Russia. It's the fifteenth of August and the twenty degrees make me smile. Sherlock thinks that the Joseph Daunt might be connected to the head of a smuggling ring here in St. Peters-burg and we want information.
The hotel we are staying in is cheap and quite uncomfortable, but we don't want to draw attention to ourselves by using one of the more expensive hotels.
We booked only one hotel-room, which has a very narrow double-bed, as we are going as siblings, and both of us agreed to do it this way. If Daunt should find out who we are and what we are doing he will kill us as soon as possible and it would be no good if we were apart, maybe even sleeping, both of us.
We are planning to stay here for two weeks, and frankly, I am worried. I am worried about us, without any real protection, and maybe even more about Mycroft. His nightmares and admittedly now very rare bouts of paranoia will make our absense very hard.
Even though he already knew I texted him when we arrived. He did answer me, surprisingly, even though he didn't really say anything.
It's getting darker every minute while we are following our suspect. He and his companion have been walking through the streets for hours and Sherlock insisted on following him the whole time. I see why he found it necessary, we would never have found them otherwise, but still, it's annoying. I hadn't anticipated this when I got dressed, hoping for the relaxed day Sherlock had promised me, so now I am wearing a black skirt and nylon tights, together with a dark top and a cardigan. All the while chasing someone, which isn't the best situation you can get. Luckily, I never liked high-heels, so I am wearing comfortable, practical shoes which still look really nice.
Sherlock stops so suddenly that I nearly run into him.
"They turned around, they are coming towards us," his voice is hushed and he pulls me into a dark corner. We both know that running away is no use, we still want our information, especially the one we can get if we listen to the meeting they are going to now.
"How long?" I whisper back and he frowns, already taking out his gun.
"A minute? Maybe,"
That is enough for the idea which forms in my head, and because it is our only chance, I get to work.
Out of my pocket I pull the make-up I had initially bought for Irene (after realising that I hadn't even thought about her for ages) and paint my lips a dark red. I smudge the eye-shadow carelessly on my eyelids, knowing that the minute is half gone. Then I take off my cardigan and push it into Sherlock's hands. He is just looking at me, quite surprised and perplexed, but I don't pay attention to him and continue. I pull my skirt up until it only barely covers my bum and move my top so it looks messy and my black bra is visible. The last touch is fluffing my hair up with my hands.
"How long?" I whisper again and luckily he understands what I mean.
"You should already be able to hear them – ten seconds?" He doesn't say the words out loud, just forms them with his lips, I nod and grip his lapels. And start kissing him.
When he tries to push me away, just on instinct, I hold on and whisper between kisses, "Just kiss me like you'd kiss a prostitute. Like you want to have sex with me."
Now I can only admire his intellect because he understands right away, and even if he doesn't he obeys. In a quick movement he slides out of his coat, ("too unique", he whispers) and pushes me against the wall. With one hand he grips my breast, the other arm is around me on my bum. I put my hands in his hair and on his back.
The kisses are hot, very sexual and they do their job. Our suspects walk past us and keep walking. After about ten seconds I start breaking the kiss but he somehow tells me to go on. After five more seconds he breaks the kiss and takes a step back. His hair is messed up, his lips are red from kissing and we are both out of breath, but that's okay. I straighten my clothes and take out a tissue to wipe the make-up off my face. When I'm done, I give Sherlock the other one. He frowns.
"You kind of have – acquired my lipstick," I whisper, grinning. I don't know how far away they are, and I don't want to risk it.
While Sherlock is trying to get the lipstick, which is smeared around his mouth, off, I pick up his coat and take the cardigan out of the pocket.
"That was close," is my only comment. Then we follow them again.
What do you think?