Melaine circled Mycroft, she had pulled her gun out that was hidden in her garters. "I should just kill you now Mycroft." John jumped up and tried to grab the gun from her, but she just slapped his hand away. "No John, we'd be doing the Queen and Country a great service by getting rid of this git!"
Mycroft held up his hands. "Melaine, stop being dramatic. You know perfectly well that I did not know Moriarty would kill Sherlock! That's why you are doing what you are doing."
"What're you doing?" John asked, looking at Melaine and then back at Mycroft. "You have to tell me!"
Melaine closed her eyes and counted to ten, setting the safety back on the gun and putting it in her garter, she noticed as John's eyes grazed over her thigh, which made her grin. "I'm undercover as an American nurse, trying to get Mycroft to explain everything. And once he has we can take him down for murder."
John took a step back, blinking very quickly, with his hands behind his back he actually spat the words out. "Moriarty. Is. Alive?"
"You shouldn't have told him!?" Mycroft stood up majesticly, as only he could. "Why did you tell him?"
Melaine rolled her eyes and thrust a finger into her brothers chest. "Did you NOT just see us snogging over on your chair!?" she pointed at John and then the chair. "Of course John will ask me to go home with him, and what am I supposed to do? Say no? I love him Mycroft, but your to bloody thick to see that!"
"You?" John stared at her. "You love me?"
She glanced at him. "Of course I do John. Who could ever not love you?" her eyes softened, then she turned back to her brother. "And I do want to go home with him, but I can't now. Can I? I have to go seduce the bloody devil!"
"You have to seduce Moriarty?" John stepped closer to her. "No."
Mycroft looked down at them both. "She must. If only to clear Sherlock's name."
"You're all crazy!" John yelled. "The LOT of you! Insane!"
Melaine wrapped her arms around John. "I'm very good at what I do John. It shouldn't take me long."
He leaned his cheek against her head, still staring Mycroft down. "I'll never forgive you for this."
"Me!?" Melaine squeaked.
"No, not you darling," he kissed her quickly. "Your eldest brother." He took a deep breath, then pulled Melaine from his chest, holding her at arms length. "You've got to promise me that he means nothing to you. Moriarty. That you're doing all of this for Sherlock."
"Everything I do is for Sherlock," her voice was soft, "And for you John." She sighed. "And for bloody Mycroft."
"How did this even become a thing?" Mycroft asked, nodding at the two of them.
They both looked at each other and grinned.
John began banging on the pin and chip machine, trying to get it to accept his card. There was no milk or food really, of any kind in the flat and Sherlock had gone all broody and silent. So off he went to get the bloody milk once again. The last time it wouldn't take his card and he had left, this time he was going to make sure it worked.
"Here love," a voice purred in his ear, and delicate white hands slid a black card through the machine. He looked up and his breath hitched in his throat. So this is what it must feel like to Molly when she was around Sherlock. Breathless, star struck and utterly stupid.
"Melaine! What a pleasant surprise." He studdered. Damn his tongue, never working properly when she was around.
She grinned at him and grabbed the small bag and then his arm. "Come with me my Doctor!"
He would of course, follow her anywhere. Though he had no idea where he was going. "Sherlock's expecting me!"
"Of course he is," Melaine glanced back at him. "It was he who sent you out to get the milk I assume?"
John nodded, as she pulled him to the front of 221B. She lazily reached into his pants pocket and grasped his keys, grinning a cat like grin at him as she did. He had no idea what effect this woman had over him. It had to be the danger she presented, much like Sherlock did. But this was a completely different danger.
"But,' he started. "Sherlock's up there!"
She tugged him up the stairs and through their flat door. "No. He's not," she dropped the bag. "Mycroft's got him." She walked over to his bedroom, kicking off her heels. "This used to be my room you know."
"Sherlock told me," John shrugged off his jacket, she followed suit. "He's told me a lot about you actually."
Melaine rolled her eyes. "He would, wouldn't he? Did he tell you about America then?"
John shook his head and sat down in his chair. "No. He told me he couldn't tell me about that. That I was your story to tell."
Melaine slipped into Sherlock's chair, her legs arranged gracefully beneath her, her hands infront of her face as if she were praying, her eyes closed. John leaned forward, knowing the story was coming. He hadn't know until now how much he truly wanted to know. To be a part of her inner circle. A moment later she opened her eyes, they were breathtaking, sparkling and effervescent.
"It was two years before Sherlock started his," she paused, searching for the right words. Not able to find it she licked her lips and went on. "Drug problem. Mycroft had rejected me again and Sherlock was in his own little world. Our mother always seemed to back Mycroft. He was the head of the household, and being our Mother, that meant quite a lot.
I was done with them all, I'd had enough of the games. There were always games John. So I left. I headed to America. When I got there I found myself caught up in their…" she paused. "The underbelly of things. It was dangerous and exciting. Everything I never knew I craved. And I was beautiful and clever and British, so I instantly had an in with the men. They called me their little 007." She laughed, staring at John. She stood up and started pacing the room.
"I was in quite deep, amongst the drugs and the women and the crime. I don't think I truly knew how deep I was. And I had no idea that Mycroft was watching. Of course she was watching," She laughed, it was a harsh laugh. "And then one day I slipped down the rabbit hole." She was quiet for a moment, still pacing and not looking at John. How could she?
"I was in love with a man. His name was Robert. I actually saw myself settling down with him. He wasn't one of the bad guys, he had no idea who I really was. But he was a Politician, and the people I worked for wanted him dead. I couldn't stop John! It was like the drugs Sherlock took! I was addicted to them." She ran her hand over the cool steel of the refrigerator.
"So one night I lured him home," she continued. "And I extracted the information I needed from him. Then I killed him," she said simply, then turned to pace back to John. But he was there. Right in front of her, his blue eyes shining. "And he just asked me why…right before he died."