A/N: I'm sorry I keep making Batman references. I guess my main character, Eve, is inspired a lot by the Selena Kyle/Catwoman character. A good role model I think. Also there is references to a real Gala that is held every year except for this year because I think it was too costly and it didn't seem appropriate since everyone's economy is so bad. I just put it on in this story...after all when you steal things for a living and are rich then it's only natural you want to spend it. And what better front than playing a socialite philanthropist. Arpand Busson is a real person as well he manages the Gala every year. He'll play a small part in this and in no way is it painting him in a negative light.-ohhaymisskay
It was a late afternoon as it had been raining profusely in London for three weeks straight. It put a damper on everyone's spirits, and Sherlock more often times than not would be found playing his violin staring out the window back home at 221B Baker Street. Tonight's tune was somber and reflective as the consulting detective tried to sooth his ever active thoughts. It wasn't helping and neither were the three nicotine patches on his arm. He was restless. Sure he had cases but this was different. It was almost like a nagging itch that burned under his skin. No matter how many times he scratched he could not get any satisfaction.
He was thinking about Eve Campbell of course.
It would be accurate to call her the one that got away but he had never really caught her to begin with. She hadn't contacted him, there was no whiff in the air of her and for all he knew she had left England entirely and took her business elsewhere. But that means he left the British Museum case wide open and still went unsolved. If there was anything that Sherlock hated also was a unsolved case.
John on the other hand saw his mood and almost docile nature. But he knew different...he saw his friend's thoughts painted on his sleeve. So John took to his blog. From time to time as he wrote a new chapter in his blog dubbed: Real Life Catwoman, he glanced up at Sherlock.
"Sherlock continued to play the violin, tonight's tune sad and serene. I've never heard him be so quiet...usually he's talking up a storm or working on some project or other. I have only seen him be so wrapped up in a person once. And unfortunately for him she was deceased. But this one seems more safe and dangerous at the same time. All I know is that our case for the British Museum has gone unsolved and I don't think it settles well with Sherlock. In fact it really doesn't settle well with me. But what can you do about it. It all lies in the hands of London's own Catwoman."
John finished his typing and looked up to see Sherlock had stopped playing. He set his violin down and looked up at the clock.
"I'm off to bed."
"Night." John said as he watched him trudge off to his room. When the door closed he sighed and went back to his blog.
But behind closed doors, the minute Sherlock turned on the light, there sitting on his window sill with a cigarette was Eve Campbell. She was dressed a little more demure, but still had on a black body suit made of leather and what looked like Kevlar embedded into said suit. She looked at him and smiled before taking a drag and then cocking her head slightly to the side.
"Hello Mr. Holmes."
"Ms. Campbell." he responded as he looked at her. He wasn't surprised but he was caught off guard.
"Turning in for the night?"
"I was, but a stray seemed to find it's way into my room."
"I'm far from being a stray. You know that."
He eyed her cigarette then and she grinned as she held it out for him. Taking the peace offering he stepped up to the window, coming close, and took a drag of it letting it wash over him. After about three drags he handed it back to her and for the next minute they pieced it before she flicked it out the window to the alley below. She then turned and sat facing him, her back to the sky and the moon over her shoulder. It illuminated the blue highlight to her black hair which was twisted into a ponytail.
"So what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Oh believe me the pleasure is all mine." she said and then reached into the folds of her cleavage and extracted a piece of paper. She handed it to him, of which he took and he opened it procuring a name.
"I thought you didn't care about what happened that night?"
"Well, I thought I'd reward you. After all you're the first to ever come so close and well...I've been reading Mr. Watson's blog. I gained a little insight to you and well, figured you weren't really out to snatch me up. I did a little digging and asking around. Those are your guys."
"Thank you. But they are going to come after you next."
"I know. They always do but they never come close. Just you. You're the only one that's as clever as I am."
"You think you're clever do you?"
"I know I'm clever. I'm damn good at what I do. Come now...if I really wanted to, I would have never let you catch wind of me. I would have darted the moment I let you into my flat. But it's rare I find someone with even half a brain. So to my surprise imagine how delighted I was that you have a whole brain."
"Flattered." he said monotonously. "Or perhaps the real reason is you like the chase."
"Doesn't everybody?"
"Not like we do."
"Oh so there's a we?" she pouted innocently. "Yes, I like the chase. But I love when you chase me. I haven't been this thrilled since I first started stealing things. Who know's one day you might catch me."
"Until that day." he said and she nodded.
"Yes, until the day Sherlock. Have a good night. Hopefully I'll see you around." she said as she fell backwards out the window and Sherlock rushed forward to look down but she was nowhere in sight.
He looked at the piece of paper in his hand and then walked over to his bed as he fell back onto it and stared up at it as he held it between his hands. He was about to get up and change when there was a sound of a cat meowing and he reached under his pillow to produce a black iPhone. He looked at it and unlocked it, having no pass code and saw a text message.
Bought you a new phone. Only use this to contact me if you have use of me. Be safe...the walls have ears. -E
He had to smile slightly at this. She must have known someone was bugging the flat. But why tell him something that he already knew? Was someone else watching him that he didn't know about?
Who else could there be? Moriarty was dead, he had no other enemies that would dare and Mycroft was the only one that frequently bugged anything...so who?
At that the phone meowed again and that's when there was a knock on his door. He knew very well who it was and just muttered "enter" before the door opened and John poked his head in.
"I swore I heard a cat." John said his brow furrowed and Sherlock sighed.
"Nope. Just your wayward imagination once again."
"I don't have a wayward imagination."
"Then you have schizophrenia and delusions of grandeur."
"I heard a cat."
"Phone." Sherlock said as he held up the iPhone and John looked at it curiously.
"Since when did you get a new phone?"
"As of ten minutes ago." he said and then not bothering to sit up he held up a piece of paper in the air. "These are also our killers from the Museum."
"How on earth..." then it dawned on John. "Eve Campbell was here wasn't she?"
"Yes, she, was." Sherlock didn't respond to her text about him checking the TV, he just stood up, strolled into the living room and darted behind the TV and moment's later came up with a camera the size of his palm. John looked at him from the entryway from the kitchen to the sitting area and looked at it questionably. "Seems brother dearest isn't the only one spying on me."
"Well do you know by who?"
"Not the foggiest." Sherlock then opened the window he was standing in front of earlier and tossed the camera to the streets below before dramatically closing it and heading to his room. "Night John."
"Uh...yeah night." John said still standing there looking mighty confused.
Across the street under the light post Eve Campbell watched as Sherlock had tossed the camera out the window and she grinned as she pocketed her phone and turned walking down the alley with a little bounce in her step. He trusted her...this was good. Perhaps she would get accomplished what needed to be accomplished after all.
The next morning while Sherlock and John were eating breakfast and Mrs. Hudson piddled around the kitchen the doorbell downstairs rang. Mrs. Hudson immediately went to see and then came up the stairs a minute later carrying a small parcel.
"Sherlock hunny, there's a package for you." she set it on the table next to his arm and Sherlock and John stared at it for a good minute. Taking a chance Sherlock took it and set it in front of him, bending down slightly to press his ear to it. Sufficient in knowing it wasn't ticking like a bomb he gently unwrapped it and then there was a box inside. Taking the lid off inside was a silk black tie and a velvet box that held obsidian and diamond cuff links as well as two tickets for the annual ARK Gala dinner that was held here in London.
"Let me see those." John looked at the diamond and obsidian cuff links and then Sherlock handed him the tickets. "Good heavens! These tickets cost at least 9,911 pounds!"
"Why do you always have to point out the cost of everything? And there's two tickets. So it's more like...you're right that is considerable amount of money."
"Who is this-wait do I even need to ask. It has to be your new girlfriend. What is it with you and dangerous women?"
"She isn't my girlfriend." Sherlock protested as he snatched the tickets away.
"The lady doth protest too much."
"Kettle...black." Sherlock hissed. "At any rate...I don't know what she wants us there for."
"Maybe you should read the love letter." John held up a slip of emerald and creme stationary and Sherlock snatched that away too as he read it.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mr. John Watson, you are cordially invited to the annual ARK Gala June 9, 2013. This event is a black tie affair. We encourage donations to be made at this event and do hope you can attend. Best regards, Arpad Busson."
"I don't think I even own a good suit." John said and that's when the doorbell rang and Mrs. Hudson went off downstairs and this time came up with two black hanging bags in each hand. One had John in gold print over the right side and the other had Sherlock.
John arose as he took one of them and opened it to reveal tuxedos.
"How does it feel to be a kept man Sherlock?"
Sherlock glared at him and merely shrugged.
"She sent you one too." he protested.