Mycroft looked up in surprise at the soft knock on the door, John Watson stood there. A shadow of the man he had been when first they met. His blue eyes were lost and empty, his blonde hair ruffled and disheveled. It looked like he hadn't slept or bathed since the death of Sherlock.

"Afternoon," John sighed, then sat in the plush red chair. He looked up at Myrcoft, really looked at him. He had hoped there would be an ounce of compassion in his eyes. But he only saw the cold hard stare of a very powerful man. "Does Melaine know?"

Mycroft silently rolled his eyes and bit his tongue before he said some choice words that shouldn't be spoken infront of a grieving man. His sister had a way of getting under any mans skin and staying there, even when she let them go she was still there. Which is why it had been so bloody hard to get her out of America. He had so wished Sherlock had been able to go retrieve their little sister, but instead it had fallen to him to bring her back so she in turn could save Sherlock.

"She does indeed know," Mycroft nodded.

Come. John is here. I need you to take care of this. – M

Melaine blinked as the sunlight shone through her window. She looked at the text from her brother and then over at the man that was asleep on her bed. She had allowed him to sleep there because she was so much shorter then she was. In his sleep he no longer looked like the psyhopath that he truly was. In his sleep she wondered if she could love a man. That thought took her by surprise, so instead of facing it she rolled off the couch and stretched. Moriarty shifted, she knew he was awake, she pretending to be asleep.

"I have to go out on an errand," she said rather loudly. "You should stay here. The police are still milling around."

Moriarty sat up and stared at Melaine. The previous night had not been what he wanted. She had shut herself down after their little cat and mouse play. Shut down after he had tried to help her after he had cut her. Or rather she had cut herself, she had been the one to move closer to the blade. That hadn't been his fault.

"Where are you going?" he drawled, then bit his lip as she went behind that bloody partition of hers. "Why did you save me?"

Melaine sighed silently and came around to her bed. She had dressed in her best undergarments, black knickers with lavender trim and matching bra. She had rolled black silk stockings on and clipped them up with garters, her hair tumbling down her back she bit her lip. She knew she would have to keep his attention one way or another, otherwise he would get bored and most likely try to kill her.

"Does a girl need a reason to save a gentleman?" she purred, climbing onto the bed like a cat, she grabbed one of his arms, and thrust it to the headboard. Quickly she locked him in a pair of handcuffs and grinned at him, her eyes sparkling, "Now be a good boy and stay."

The look on his face was priceless, oh, if only Sherlock and Mycroft could see this madman now. He looked from her to the handcuffs. She was one hundred percent certain that as soon as she left the flat he would be out of them. She also knew he would most likely follow her. It would be a bit hard to evade him, he mustn't see where she was going.

Damn Mycroft, he should never have allowed John to see him. She pulled a lace black dress over her head, still staring dangerously at Moriarty. Then gracefully pinned her hair up, so that only a few curls fell free to frame her porcelain face, she looked at Moriarty's reflection in the mirror as she applied her lipstick, then turned and looked at him once again.

He began to speak, but she jumped up and touched a finger to his lips. His tongue darted out and licked her finger, then smirked. "No talking, it'll ruin the fun I'm having with you." She kissed him on the edge of his mouth, leaving pink lip stain on the corner. Then grabbed her jacket and walked out the door.

Moriarty twisted to look at the cuff that pinned him to the bed, on her bedside table Melaine had left a bobby pin. He laughed, wondering why she had been so incredibly stupid to leave that lying there. He realized she might not know him quite as well as she thought she did. Which puzzled him. He could get nothing off of her, he had no idea who this strange woman really was. She was almost ghost like, hidden amongst the shadows.

Quickly he undid the lock, pulling his wrist free. He had to follow her, she practically SCREAMED for him to follow her. And he would acquiesceto that desire. Jumping up he grabbed his own jacket, slipped his phone into his pocket and quickly left the flat.

Why did you leave me all alone Darling? – M

Melaine glanced down at the phone she allowed regular people to call and text her at. He must have unlocked it while she slept. She didn't mind though, that's why she left it out.

I see you got free of the handcuffs. – E

She continued walking down the streets of London, dancing through the crowds, no one seemed to take notice of her. She knew he followed her, and she grinned. Loosing him would be fun, she knew he would be frantic to find her. When she was finished with John and Mycroft she would allow Moriarty to stumble upon her quite unexpectedly.

Handcuffs cannot contain me. – M

Is that so? I'll have to get better ones to try out on you. – E

She saw a woman ahead of her, they were about the same build, both with their hair up, same clothing on. Well, at least the stockings and the jacket were the same. They had different bags though, Melaine's was red while this woman carried a yellow one. She swooped towards the woman and without her even noticing she switched their bags. Later on she would send it back to her, but for now she needed to loose Moriarty.

He glanced around, all these boring people, going about their endlessly boring lives. It was enough to make a man go crazy. And indeed it had made him just that. He spotted Melaine's red bag and followed her silently, taking no notice of the woman in the shadows beside him.

Melaine grinned and turned a different corner. No wonder Sherlock thought Moriarty under him. He really had no clue what he was doing. She stepped into her brothers building and took a deep, shaky breath. Seeing John now would be quite hard. It would break her heart. She had met him only a handful of times, but was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

She gobbled up every bit of information her brother texted to her about their adventures. Secretly wishing she had her own John Watson, sometimes secretly wishing that he would ask her out, that they would fall madly in love and be married. Then they would all be a family. But those dreams were fairytales of a girl who didn't truly exist. She would never be good enough for John Watson, and he would never pluck up the courage to ask her out, considering she was his best friends baby sister.