Part 2, here we go ;)
"I think I know who the assassin is." John stated.
"Who?"
"The American leader"
"The skinny one? He attempted to chat me up." Animine said.
Sherlock glanced in at the man. "Yes, definitely."
"But we can't just go in and arrest him! We need to get the gun off him, if he sees us all go up to him, he'll suss us and start shooting. He's a trained assassin murder, yeah?"
"I'll go." Animine offered. "He already knows me, I can ask him to dance or something." She shrugged.
"To dangerous, he could shoot you." Sherlock said.
"It's the most discreet choice, it's happening." She countered.
Sherlock thought a moment before answering. "Fine."
"Don't stare and make it obvious." She warned.
"Of course not."
Animine smiled, and walked back into the main hall. She walked up to the skinny American 'leader' and with a smile on her lips. That was the advantage with being a girl; she was like a secret weapon for the Baker Street Boys. She could alter her appearance so they couldn't see her coming; but this time, she was fine. "Hi there, we were chatting earlier, weren't we?" She said, and the man smiled.
"Yes yes, I remember you, all elegance and beauty."
Animine giggled slightly to keep up the act, unknowing that mere feet away Sherlock was fuming.
"I was wondering, would you care to dance with me? Strong man like you should be able to lead a dance with me." She winked as he took her hand and lead her to the dance floor. She happened to glance at Sherlock on the way, and his face was comparable to that of thunder.
The music started and the pair danced. Animine wondered where he was hiding the weapon, her eyes raking down his body swiftly, not on the front, probably the back. So. It was all a matter of small talk now.
"Come to these sort of event often?" She started.
"No, no, I'm not invited much. I spend more time in the office."
"Well, aren't you clever? I know a sibling of a friend that barely moves from his desk chair." She replied.
"He needs to learn how to have fun then!" The American smirked.
"Indeed he does." Animine nodded, as another flash of music played, faster. Their own dance grew in pace, their feet a blur.
"But miss, you can stop acting now." He said, and Animine looked up at him.
"What?"
"I know you know.
"Know what?"
"I'm not here to dance, lady."
"Oh yes, that I figured. You're here to kill Boris, aren't you?" She said.
"No, no, that was a cleverly designed red herring, miss. The bullets' are meant for you and your friends, Miss Opalsean. Your little detective squad stops far to many crimes, and crimes are what we need. You see, without them, there is no job for me. I'm an assassin for hire you see, and nobody hires me anymore, I've no money for people around the world are to scared that the great London gang will come if it's unsolvable. And then they'll be thrown in prison which is, my friend, so so boring...I like my job too much. And as pretty as you are I must dispose of you. Because I, Miss, am a very selfish man. Now, come along, we must get out of sight of your friends for now, say anything at all and they die first." He said, and danced her away and out of of the main hall before dragging her down to a darker corridor.
"I'd use a knife to make it hurt less than it will, but the sound of the gun will attract your friends, so..." He pulled the gun from his back pocket and aimed it straight at her. She looked right down the barrel of the gun, and having not said anything since before the speech, she hadn't given anything away. But now, she smirked. And laughed.
"What? What's worth laughing at."
"American." Animine said. "American, really? What happened to your accent?"
Indeed, the 'American leader' had lost his false accent in his speech. Evidently, he was as British as Animine herself.
"So? Even if I'm not American, you're still gonna die."
Animine smirked. "Oh, I'm really not."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't do this yourself, someone hired you to. You're an assassin, not a mastermind."
"No, no, I did this entirely myself." He insisted.
"You've not got the brain capacity to have organized all this!" She said with a shrug. "Only a genius could pull a stunt like this, and well, you just ain't one. So who hired you is the question I now ask."
"Not for long, you've got an appointment with death," he retorted.
"So you keep saying. Shoot me then, shoot me now! But even if you kill me and leave me lying here, well, you won't get past John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. 'Coz they'll kill ya for this and then the whole point of the scheme fails, doesn't it, and you die anyway." Animine shrugged.
"I'll shoot Holmes and Watson before they know whats coming." He said self-assuredly.
"But how many bullets have you got, because they sure are good at dodging."
"Not good enough."
"Tell me who hired you to do the job"
"Never."
"Well, 'least I know who it's not."
"Who?"
"Moriarty. He likes Sherlock too much to not kill him in person. So, what, a rival of Moriarty's who wants to murder and make sure that he's never a suspect? He's not a game player evidently. Or is he a she? You could tell me now." Animine said, thinking half-aloud.
"Stop talking, because the conversation is over now."
"Is it rea-" Animine was cut short as she dived to the side to avoid the bullet shot at her. He shot another and she dodged it again, this time only dodging by a hair's breadth. She lunged at the assassin and the gun went flying as they went tumbling. The girl was strong, that was for sure as they wrestled on the ground. Eventually though, the man cam out on top, and pinned her by the throat on the wall.
"You little bitch! Nobody fights me, they die."
"Not this time." A deep voice came from behind him, and the assassin turned to see Sherlock and John standing, their faces that of pure anger.
"Put her down." John said forcibly.
"No." He said, pushing into Animine's windpipe, making her increasingly starved of oxygen. She feebly tried to kick him. The assassin grinned, turning to see the men, but instead being met by an Army Doctor's fist. The force of the punch made him let go, and Animine dropped to the floor, limp. Sherlock then launched himself at the assassin and pounded him into unconsciousness as John rushed to Animine's side.
She wasn't breathing.
"Oh god," John said, thinking quickly, and starting CPR. He'd done it countless times in the army, and just hoped he could revive the quirky female. Sherlock rushed forward and went down on his knees next to John. John placed his hands on her chest and started pumping.
"1,2,3," He muttered, and then placed his mouth on hers and breathed into her.
"1,2,3,"
He did this for what felt like forever, until, finally, thankfully, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
"Thank the lord." John muttered, and Sherlock let out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding.
Animine looked at the pair of them. "Next time your brother offers us a bodyguard case, decline it." She muttered, and the boys chuckled softly.
So, reviews maybe? Thought? I'd be very grateful!