Twenty Three
Reflexes

My head was buried somewhere deep in the troposphere as I meandered down the quiet street on my way to work that afternoon. It wouldn't be pulled back to ground level, either. It was immersed too deep into the murky grey clouds above my head for that.

Reason had returned to me some time after Sherlock's ridiculous departure and it had wasted no time in informing me of just how much of a fool I was being. I shouldn't have let him sweep aside my insecurities so easily. I should have stood my ground and fought. He had hurt me, and I had simply allowed him to stroll right back into my life like nothing had ever happened.

Well, not nothing – he had agreed to change his ways at least a bit. That was something of an achievement, but it wasn't nearly what I had hoped for. I should have yelled at him some more. That would have been good. He bloody deserved it anyway.

And yet, despite my self-condemnation, a meagre gratefulness was running around my innards thanking me for backing down and greeting his return into my life with joy. He hadn't lied about one thing at least; there was definitely some sort of thing between us that would sooner tear us apart than be ignored.

Maybe it would work. Maybe we would be able to get past this and become an almost functioning couple of sorts. Maybe I would begin to actually know who he was.

If only.

For something in my gut was telling me that it wouldn't ensue like that. Nothing was simple with that man, nothing ever went to plan. Everything was in a constant state of emotional flux.

Everything was chaos, and it would remain that way for the rest of his existence. I couldn't change it and he wouldn't change it for me.

I almost didn't spot it.

In fact, at first I walked straight on by it without pausing for a miniscule moment.

"Dr Hunt."

I jolted in my pace, and rotated my neck to see who had called so politely to me. I didn't recognise the voice, at least not immediately, but as soon as I caught sight of the woman I knew what this was about.

I should have sodding expected this.

I sighed and retraced the last ten feet of my journey. The suited woman didn't look up from her BlackBerry, but simply held the polished black door of the car open beside her. I stopped in front of her and ran a hand through my hair in exasperation.

"Does Big Brother want to chastise me for being such a petulant child?" I asked the woman, already knowing that she wouldn't bother replying.

It was obvious that this was going to happen. He would know instantly, of course – Mycroft always knew when I saw his sibling. To be honest, I had been severely surprised when he hadn't kidnapped me months ago after I had so naughtily disobeyed his order and abandoned Sherlock, but he hadn't. If I hadn't met him before, I might have even contemplated the idea of him leaving me be for once.

I rolled my eyes at the assistant's anticipated silence, let out a small huff of breath, and proceeded to climb into the ominous black car without a mutter of complaint.

I was barely two steps onto the pavement outside the flashy glass-fronted tower when my phone rang. The number was blocked, but even without that clue I could have guessed who it was on the other end of the call.

"Why have you brought me to a hotel, Mr Holmes?" I queried without letting the man speak first. Somehow, the governmental superhero didn't seem like the type of person to give up his current residence so readily. But if he wasn't staying here, then what the hell was the madman plotting?

"I will be granting you a choice." The voice spoke back with the subtle electronic twang they are prone to get when delivered over technology. He hadn't bothered with formalities either. That was a bad sign. Even if Mycroft was a creepy kidnapper, he was always courteous.

I frowned cautiously and parroted, "A choice?"

"The first option you have is to turn around and return to the vehicle in which you arrived." He continued austerely "You will be driven directly to the store at which you are at present supposed to be labouring and you will never need be troubled by this proposition again."

I swallowed, my next question coming out much softer than I had planned. "And the second?"

There was a swift pause before he spoke again, his tone so deliberate that I assumed the precise wording of his statement had been calculated exactly. "The second, my dear, is to visit the current occupier of room three oh one."

"Who…" I started in naught but a whisper.

"I believe you already know the answer to that, Melanie." Was all the answer I obtained. "Choose wisely. You will not receive this opportunity again."

He hung up before I caught the chance to ask any more questions, but I didn't lower my hand or replace the phone into my pocket.

Because I did know, or at least I thought I knew, but the concept was hideous. I didn't even contemplate why Mycroft was allowing me this rare prospect, although when I looked back at it later I saw just how strange it was – how unbelievably against my preconceptions of him it was to be this… well, considerate.

Because it was, wasn't it – considerate? Although, if that was the case, then why did I have the sudden urge to run away and lock myself in that shiny car of his?

I wouldn't receive this opportunity again.

Decisively, summoning all the courage I could, I nodded. The phone retreated into the depths of my coat pocket, my jaw clenched in preparation, and I took a step forward.

I knocked twice, the first being far too quiet to be heard by anyone on the other side, the second therefore necessary.

It took a moment, but at last there was a response from inside the room. The silky voice hummed in my ear dangerously. "Yes?"

I stared at the golden numbers on the wood in front of me, the three simply figures looming threateningly brightly. I opened my mouth to say something, but then realised that I really had no clue as to what it would ever be. I had been so preoccupied with the thought of insisting my feet to this point, that I hadn't wondered what I would do once in fact here.

My nerves crumbled.

"Uh," I let out, just so loud to be audible through the barrier between us, "never mind."

I made to leave, to run away in cowardice as I should have done as soon as I realised what Mycroft was doing, but didn't get anywhere. The door opened before I had the time to disappear.

She let a tiny frown mark her smooth forehead when her steady gaze landed on my face. "Don't I know you?"

Here she was. So close, so tangible. I had seen her before, of course, only yesterday in fact, but that sighting meant nothing. Now, for some unknown reason, she seemed so much more real. A woman, nothing more. A woman, standing in the doorway to her hotel room, dressed in a fluffy white dressing gown and peering quizzically at her uninvited guest.

"No." I told her, shaking my head, before changing my mind, and consequently changing it back again, my thoughts bouncing to and fro like a perverse tennis match. "Well, yes. Well, no. Well, yes. Well, n-" I gave up trying to explain in any sort of articulate way. "Oh, sod it."

She stumbled backwards, shock highlighting her usually flawless features.

"Huh." I muttered, staring at my clenched fist outstretched before me. She wasn't the only surprised one there. "I'm surprisingly good at that."

Irene Adler clutched at her nose, disbelief masking any of the pain she must have been feeling as a few droplets of red landed on the crisp white robe.

"Did you just punch me?" she yelled in astonishment and anger.

I blinked, my thoughts still not completely recognising what I had just done.

"I've got to go." I said, far too calmly for my own liking. "I'm already late for work, but it's been nice seeing you again."

"Hang on," she cried as I started making my way down the thankfully empty corridor, the confusion palpable in her voice, "aren't you John Watson's-"

I cut her off before she could finish the statement.

"No, I'm not, but it doesn't really matter to you anymore anyway." I climbed into the lift and twisted, pressing the button for the ground floor on my way around. I spotted her, hand still firmly clenched on her nose, eyes still wide with uncertainty, but didn't think anything of it. She was just a woman. "Bye."

The metal door slid with a clang shut and the lift jerked to life. The little lit floor indicator above the buttons was blazing with the number one by the time I noticed the sting and looked down at my right hand. I shook it in pain.

"Ow."

It's been an exceptionally long time, hasn't it? I hope you're all still here and didn't get sick of waiting and desert me. I am really sorry. It's just been stupidly hectic around here over the last couple of weeks. Studying, illness, working. I'm actually quite keen on the idea of passing my course and keeping my job – I don't want to end up like Melanie, do I? Well, that part anyway… the whole sleeping with Sherlock part I wouldn't mind nearly so much.

Review?