The real plot starts now, so stay with me :) And please review. Also, a special thanks to Aussieflower :)
Go home? Not when there's finally something fun going on. Leaving Lestrade to think he is in charge gave him just the right amount of time to get a head start on the investigation. He crossed paths with this group in a previous case. What he knew of them was that their clientele was of the highest social statuses, millionaires, diplomats, even members of the government.
It was getting dark, just the time to visit such a place. Their residency was in a beautiful old mansion, just outside the center of London. The cab left him in front of a very tall metal gate, which continued into an ornamented fence with round, spear point finals. Through the gate you could see a long path out of white stones and regularly groomed trees. To anyone else, it would seem like just another bourgeois villa. But, thanks to a previous case, Sherlock knew better. He had investigated a kidnapping case of a young playboy who was last seen at these premises and then he had a chance to glimpse at the hidden world of entertainment only for the chosen narrow circles.
While he approached the gate, he noticed two cameras carefully observing him. Nothing surprising, they liked to see who wanted to visit them from a safe distance. Just before he approached the gate, a male voice was heard from the speaker.
"Mr. Holmes, I wasn't expecting to see you here again. Business or pleasure?"
"Business of course." He coldly replied.
The gate opened and Sherlock went up the path to the house. A very classy butler opened the door with a small bow.
"Sir, I was instructed to show you the way to the second room on the left in this corridor Sir."
"Instructed by whom? And why?"
Sherlock remembered this butler well. He was probably the only man employed in this house, perhaps because he was so old or because he knew all its secrets and never said a word. He raised his eyebrows in suspicion but then continued to the instructed room. The door was closed, but he didn't bother knocking.
He found himself in a bedroom with a high ceiling and a crystal chandelier. The room gave the impression of style and wealth. In the center of the room was a bed with closed red curtains. He had a strange feeling in his stomach about this, but he decided it was best to ignore it; feelings were never good. He approached the bed slowly and opened the curtains.
On the bed lay a woman. She was lying on her front so he couldn't see her face, but as his gaze went up from her long legs and black heals up her attractive figure in a black corset to her long, dark brown curls falling on her back. The feeling in his stomach changed as he observed her long elegant fingers with red nails, now it felt like he was carrying led, like he couldn't breathe anymore.
He remembered the last time he saw her. How she shivered from the breeze on that evening in the port. How he pretended he didn't see that she had something to say. How he saw a mixture of shame, disappointment and gratitude in her eyes.
One would think that traveling across the world to save someone from an almost certain brutal death would be far more inconvenient than admitting to this certain someone: "Hey, I obviously care since I put my neck to the line by saving your neck from a very nasty fate." Or saying something as goofy as that, not to mention any other, heavier statement. But not Sherlock. He stood there, all mysterious with his cheekbones, with a cold and distant appearance. She obviously needed a hug after all she's been through, god knows it's been a lot, but he just couldn't give it.
He put her on a small, luxurious boat whose captain made no unnecessary questions for the right amount of money. He handed her a suitcase containing a new ID, nice, new clothes, a plane ticket and lots of cash to open doors for her. She looked up at him through her long eyelashes, blue eyes that were once so playful and now so sad. She took a deep breath and said:
"So, this is it?"
"I don't think I forgot anything. Your further travel plans are in the suitcase, also enough money to start a new life whose details are also packed in there. Have I missed anything?"
He was really a puzzle, she taught. One moment he holds her hand by the fireplace so gently, the next one he leaves her to her fate with no mercy. One moment he risks his life to save hers and the next one he is treating her like a package he should bring to a boat to be sent further, nothing more.
She gathered strength for one, last try and her eyes glowed playfully as they used to.
"There is no time for dinner since the boat is about to leave, but a goodbye kiss? It won't hurt, I promise." said she while getting closer to him.
Not being able to ignore her completely but still standing his ground he gave her a soft smile.
"Goodbye, Miss Adler."
Trying to convince herself that it was a good sign, she smiled softly back at him, and then turned around to the boat, and to her new life. It hurt. She hoped she will forget, because her sentiment was once again on the losing side.
Many nights after that he sat, sleepless, regretting the moment when he masked his cowardness with uncaring. But even if he would return to that moment, he still wouldn't have the words. He would have stood there petrified and watch her leave again and again. Perhaps its better this way, he tried to convince himself, because after all, caring is not an advantage.
He tried to recover control over himself as the brown-eyed woman turned around to face him.
"Hello. My name is Rebecca. I bet I can guess what you like."
He shook his head, more trying to clear his thoughts and explain to himself it was not her then to negate her offer. But she resembled her so much. How could this be? He didn't have enough time to think it through, because she put her arms around his neck, and said:
"So, what can I do for you?"
He untangled himself from her arms and regained his uninterested cold expression with a lot of effort.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm a detective and I'm investigating the murder of some of your coworkers. What is your knowledge of the matter?"
This subject was not pleasing her as her body language had told Sherlock, because she folded her arms across her chest and moved slightly backwards.
"You're not the police, why should I tell you anything?"
"Because the police consult me when they don't have a clue what to do which is always. Now, what do you know of this case? It is in our mutual interest that I leave here as soon as possible, so we can both continue with our work."
Not liking the police but liking arrogant men, she loosened up a little.
"All right, let's talk. The missing...dead girls worked here, I knew them all. They went to see clients and never came back. Our boss arranged the deals, so these people were checked so they didn't do it. Since then we only work here, where we're safe. Anything else?"
They really look alike. Is that a professional thing? Perhaps. No I guess not. Focus, Sherlock thought.
"And this boss of yours, who is he? Did the girls have anything in common that distinct them from the others? Where are there rooms? Did they behave differently, perhaps they suspected something?"
She laughed, approaching dangerously close again.
"Aren't you curious, Mr...Holmes, wasn't it? They behaved normally; I don't think they could have anticipated something like this. They were just like any other girl around here. And there rooms are not available for you to see, house policy, sorry. And now..."
She took him by surprise; her arms were again wrapped around his neck and she kissed him before he could defend himself. It took him a second too long to get out of it because he was again trapped in some old memories. When he finally pulled back, she seemed very self satisfied.
"Maybe next time I'm the victim so I get your full attention, detective?"
"It's a morbid joke. Well I'll be of now. I'll leave you my number in case you remember anything usefull. Good evening."
She blew him a kiss and he rushed down the stairs out of the house.
What was happening to him, he taught in the cab. He never seemed to be distracted by women before. A little voice in his head said: "That's not entirely true." To be more irritating, this voice seemed to be John's. For many months now, he successfully suppressed the thoughts of The Woman while working. But this girl resembled her so much so he got carried away. He promised himself it will not happen again.