NOTE:
I am sorry that this one took me so long and is still quite short! I hope you like it.
Ah and I still own nothing
Chapter2
In the brief second of his irritation she pulled free and pulled her phone out of his coat, turning around, she simply said: "I knew you would probably throw me in the water, so I put it in here." Shrugging her shoulders she answered it.
"Sherlock, be a good boy and be quiet, Mummy´s doing business!" She had half turned around, waving her hand at him.
He felt like a fool, this woman was incredible. He hated her already.
The conversation on the phone got louder quickly. "What do you have?! Listen to me, listen carefully! If you are lying, I will have you skinned!" She emphasized every syllable.
"Right. You will be rewarded if you are telling the truth, but if not-" a short pause increased the obvious threat, "I will make myself new High Heels out of your skin!"
She ended the phone call and turned around, Sherlock strained under her gaze.
"Sorry honey, I have to leave you now. I will return the coat, surly don´t want to keep this old thing! Bye bye!"
"Oh and Dr. Watson didn´t go very far so you two lovebirds can go home together! Catch up later!"
She waved and quickly left the pool.
Sherlock scowled looking helplessly around. Then he turned and ran outside, where he did meet John. "What did you two do? What took you so long, did you exchange your whole life stories?!"
Sherlock sighed: "What are you still doing here?"
"Just answer my damn question, Sherlock! What was going on in there?"
"Let´s just go home." Sherlock replied tired.
"Wait. Why are you all wet? And where is your coat?!"
"What do you suggest, John?" Sherlock went straight ahead away from John´s continuing questions towards the street to get a cab and just go home.
While they were driving with the cab Sherlock stared out of the window, lost in the attempt to straighten his thoughts. John had stopped asking him about what happened and had started to just stare at him with a concerned expression on his face. The cab drive went by silent and soon they arrived in Bakerstreet, Sherlock stormed off into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Nothing unusual though but John kept on worrying, what did Moriarty do to him?
Still wearing the wet clothes Sherlock threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, how was he supposed to process this? What did even happen back there? He had never felt that urge in his guts and had never been interested in this kind of interpersonal relation, though he couldn´t stop thinking about her.
He could hear John walking around the flat.
Maybe the fact that someone is actually out there and kind of a match made him loose his ground at the pool. She did surely feel the same way, why else making such a dangerous attempt? He could have killed her, but she knew, he wouldn´t. She had played him.
Right on the edge, the brief moment before drifting into sleep he promised himself that something like that is never going to happen again, ever.