Haha, I felt bad for leaving with that cliffhanger, so I decided I'd write a new chapter before I'm off. Might not be the best one, though, so please keep in mind that I was writing the chapter while packing.

The red oak tree was a bench by the Thames. It was usually used by homeless blokes, to lie on at night. The bench was formed as a tree, and made of red oak, hence the name. Not very many knew that, but Sherlock did of course, and so did the woman who waited on him on the bench.

It was dark outside, and Sherlock only saw a contour of the slim figure on the bench. He could see her green eyes sparkle in the night, when he come up to her. She tilted her head light and asked with a mocking voice:

"Didn't take you long to figure out that code, now, did it? By the way, you shouldn't use these, they're bad for your health."

She held up his nicotine patches. He snapped them from her hands.

"Why? Why did you get me down here? You would've gotten away with it if you hadn't." Sherlock didn't look her in the eyes as he talked, the burning life in them made it impossible to focus on anything else, and he needed his mind clear.

"Oh, you see, I'm just like you. Well, not just like you. You can say I'm the more… human version of you. I deduce the things you put off as boring, and annoying. Feelings. People. Not what they do or have done, but how they are. And I wouldn't do that unless I was curious, would I. So there's your answer. You are curious and I know how painful it is, not knowing. So I'll tell you. "

Sherlock couldn't hide away a surprised expression, but he did give an effort to try.

"You are doing this so I won't have to wonder how?"

Vay Crieff nodded. It was just a little movement with her head, which made her hair dance slowly around her head.

"You are risking your life as a free woman to tell me how it happened?" She smiled, sly.

"Oh, little you… I'm not risking anything. They don't have any proves. They can't take me for anything."

Sherlock felt his phone in his pocket, but said nothing. He didn't like how she treated him and wanted to show her to her place. No one was better than him.

"Okay, then. Tell me."

"Well, it all started when I was little… But you don't want to hear the background story, do you. That would bore you. That's why I'm jumping right to about two weeks ago."

Sherlock looked a bit shocked. Usually people just kept on telling their stories, somehow thinking it was exciting or worth hearing, but Vay… She understood that people didn't care, that he didn't care, and she respected that. For some strange reason, that made Sherlock want to know the rest of the story. He found himself with a feeling he hadn't experienced before; he wanted to know how Vay turned out to be Vay. What made her her. But Sherlock being Sherlock didn't want to admit that, and just nodded.

Vay looked at him funny.

"Oh, I was wrong. You do want to hear the background story. At least now you want to… Obvious."

"Ehhbjm," Sherlock stuttered, spellbound.

"What?"

"No. Just jump to the part where you killed your father."

"I've threatened your intelligence now, haven't I." Vay laughed. It was a thrilling sound, lovely, and it reminded Sherlock of rain at summer. He tried to shake away the feeling as she continued.

"You are freaked out by the fact that someone can read you too."

"John can read me," Sherlock said shortly, looking away.

"Not the same way I can read you. Anyway, I didn't kill Peter. He hung himself. That should be obvious to you. Don't get so touchy-feely that you outburst things like that. Might lead you to do things you'll regret."

Sherlock gaped at her. She made him truly speechless, something no other person ever had managed, and he hated the feeling. She said just what he'd said to John in the same situation. A shiver went down his spine, and he tried not to show how insecure he was starting to get.

"He didn't hang himself. He could fine have reached the chair beside him. You should've moved it further away." Accusing her, that might get her to reveal something.

"But you see, that's where you're wrong. I didn't kill him. I didn't threaten him to hang himself either. I talked to him, and then he decided to take a suicide. I cannot be held responsible for that."

"You asked me here, to tell me nothing?"

"Isn't that what you get out of what I say anyway? Nothing? You can't make anything out of me, Mr Holmes." Vay winked, but not in the sexy way that would've reminded him of Irene, but more like this-is-our-secret.

"Of course I can make something out of you. You are after attention." Sherlock said the words, knowing that he was lying. Vay Crieff did not want attention. She knew he was lying, and she laughed again. Raindrops in summertime.

"Really, Sherlock Holmes. I am after attention?"

Sherlock didn't know what to say. He didn't know the feeling he was having, and if he didn't know better, he would've thought he felt stupid.

"You have a dog. A huge dog, I'm guessing maybe a Schafer. You could've been out with your friends, now, drinking, but you wouldn't do that because you are too mature. You don't have a boyfriend, but you just got out from an engagement. You broke it off, I imagine."

Vay laughed.

"Stop laughing!" Sherlock said, before realizing it. He bit his lips. Dammit. He wanted her to stop laughing, because it made him feel insecure, but he also wanted her to laugh more because he loved the sound.

Vay cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, you are right about the dog. Not a hard one, though, Mr. Consulting Detective, considering I told you earlier today, under the interrogation."

Sherlock could've hit himself. "Stupid, stupid," he mumbled under his breath. Of course, he remembered her saying it now. The dog´s name was Sirius.

"Sirius is a star. My dog is named after a star," Vay said, and it would've been random if Sherlock hadn't just thought about the name.

"I know," he answered, with a cold, feelingless expression.

Vay started to laugh, but stopped herself.

"No you don't. John wrote in his blog that you don't know the Solar system. How could you then possibly know that Sirius is a little star up there somewhere?"
"You read John´s blog?"

"Yes, of course. I'm a fan." She laughed at Sherlock´s startled expression. Sherlock didn't know what to do. And that was a first, or maybe a second for him. He didn't like it. He wanted to run away, until he got control again. In this situation, even he could say that it surely wasn't him who had it. As he tried desperately to find something clever to say, she opened her mouth again.

"Well, I'm tired and my dog misses me. It was nice to see you and I will see you again. Before I go, I'll let you in on a little secret, though. The reason you can't read me?" She came closer to him, lent in and whispered in his ear:

"It's because I'm so good at talking people away from the subject. Think about that." As she pulled a bit away and pressed her lips against his, two things were clear to Sherlock. One, Vay smelled just like a rare flower he once found in Africa. Two, John was standing just a few feet away, with a hurt and shocked expression. Sherlock managed to pull himself together, and ran after John who'd turned on his heel and stormed in to the dark.

"John! John!" Sherlock called, desperately, but John didn't answer, and he couldn't see him. He stopped running and stared helpless into the dark.

Well, at least he got the recording of Vay saying she'd talked to Peter before he died. That might give the police something to go on. He reached down in his pocket to pick up his phone.

His pocket was empty, except for a note, written with ink, saying:

Told you I'm not risking anything. Think about what I said. Do you have anything to go on?

Sherlock looked at the note, finally realizing that even though they'd talked for ages, he still didn't know anything about how Peter von Woller had died, and he was even further from solving the case in his head named Vay Crieff.

I'm a bad person. If someone wants to have a word with me, I'll be in London.

Please be a sweetie and leave a review. Reviews always makes my day.

Wishing everybody a nice Easter! :)

P.S.

When Vay says: "I'm a fan", imagine Sherlock when saying to Anderson about the deodorant he's wearing: "It's for men" in Study in Pink. That's just the way she said it.