For SayaSweeper212. Happy birthday! :D
Now, the next chapter is THE chapter and I'm sure you know what I mean by THE chapter...cue eyebrow wiggle...wink...hint hint. :)
Sherlock heard the sound that told him she was back. Hallway because he hadn't seen the flash of light. It should've taken her twenty-seven minutes at least, the time it took him and he'd taken the rooftop route, but she'd only been gone half that time. She must be using some form of other world technology, but he still hadn't figure out what it was.
"What was that?" John asked.
"She's back," he replied and a moment later the door opened and she entered the flat.
"Wait. How did you get here so fast?" his friend asked.
She grinned.
"Prepare to be amazed Doctor Watson," she replied.
"John," he corrected.
"I know. I just love saying Doctor Watson to Doctor Watson. How many people get to do that?"
"Um…okay," John replied, thinking she was a bit mental, but then that was probably good seeing as how Sherlock could be a bit mental…okay, more than a bit sometimes. He grinned.
He noted the way Sherlock's eyes softened when the detective looked at her and his grin turned into a smirk. One his friend noticed.
"Shut up, John," Sherlock snapped.
She stopped as her eyes fell on Trevor who was slouched in the chair she'd been tied to. He was sporting a black eye, a cracked lip that was swelling, those being the only injuries visible.
"And what do you call this?" she asked, eyeing the detective who had purposely averted his gaze.
She turned her attention to John.
"Um…he fell," the doctor explained.
"Fell?" She gazed around the flat. "From where?"
"Tripped actually," Sherlock said. "Over the chair, striking the table, then the floor, tried to get up and struck the table again."
"And the chair," John added.
"Yes, and the chair."
Rose glanced between them. It wasn't the truth, she could see that. She grinned and Sherlock returned her smile.
"Suppose we won't need the gun then," she said, glancing at John before turning her attention to Sherlock. "Do you think you can help him up without letting him trip?"
"If I have to," he replied, grabbing Trevor's arm and pulling the man up.
Trevor's eyes opened and he glanced around wildly before his eyes landed on the detective holding him by the arm. His eyes widened.
"Just stand there like a good boy and you won't have to trip again," Rose said sporting a grin that Sherlock had never seen and could only be described by one word. Wicked. He found it even more appealing than her cheeky grin and it was all he could do not to sod the whole thing and grab her, but he held his control…barely.
She lifted her arm and pulled her sleeve back, revealing a device strapped to her wrist. Leather with a touch screen built in. She typed something in he didn't quite catch.
"Sorry, John. I can only take three. Anymore and the transporter gets a bit unreliable," she said. "But it's late and you're probably tired anyway."
"Um…okay," John said, not entirely sure what she was going on about.
She took Sherlock's hand and wove it around her waist.
"Hold on," she said.
He pulled her close to his side and bent down next to her ear.
"I think I can manage that," he whispered.
Good thing he did that after I punched in the location or we might wind up anywhere. She thought as a wave of heat passed over her body. She hit the button and in the next moment they were standing in a vast desert.
John blinked. They were gone. Just gone. There was a zapping noise, a flash of light, and all three of them vanished. How the hell did she do that? He thought back to the alley and then the abandoned bank. Transporter. Who the hell was she?
Sherlock glanced around the desert, taking in the view as pieces to her puzzle fell into place. Transporter. Teleporter. That's how she got away. That's how she managed to escape each time.
"Sahara Desert," he said, releasing Trevor with a shove.
"Seemed fitting," Rose said.
Trevor's eyes widened.
"Wait. But you can't-" he began.
He was cut off as she pulled a pack off her shoulder and tossed it at his feet.
"Six bottles of water and some dehydrated food," she said.
"Center?" Sherlock asked.
"Close, yeah."
The man began to panic, gazing around wildly.
"I'll die," Trevor protested.
"Probably," the detective said. "But if you conserve your supplies, find shade, travel at night there's always a possibility."
Trevor turned his panicked gaze on her.
"Rose, you can't…you can't do this to me."
The anger she felt in that moment she'd only ever felt a few times in her life. It was true that she cared, too much some would say and had, but her friends were important to her and although Trevor had been her friend he'd take two of them from her. Two people who trusted her to protect them.
"It's more than you deserve," she snapped, eyeing the man.
"But this isn't you. You're not like this."
"You have no idea who I am, what I've done. They were my friends and you took them from me and I can never get them back, but I can make sure you won't hurt anyone else," she yelled, anger overriding everything else.
In the next moment she typed something into her transporter, took Sherlock's arm and they were standing in his flat at Baker Street.
Standard Disclaimer.
Thank you to all my brilliant readers!
Reviews are always welcome. :)