Chapter 10

"Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you."

-Richard Bach

The unease in the car was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Everleigh had no idea where they were going, who they were going to meet or why. The mystery shrouding the entire situation had sent her heart into overdrive. She was sweating lightly, her scarf seemed far too tight around her neck and her hands just wouldn't hold still. Blood trickled lightly from a small bite on her lip, always her nervous habit, a coppery taste biting at her taste buds. She assumed that all this was unrelated to the phone calls she had been receiving, seeing as the man she was going to see now didn't hide behind a mask by blocking their number, which made the entire scenario even worse. Everleigh got the feeling however that if she were to call that number again, it wouldn't go through.

"Where are we going?" Ev finally chimed, turning her head to the woman sitting beside her.

"Can't tell you," she responded, her eyes still fixated on her phone.

The road was pitch black, as if someone had conveniently turned out all the street lamps if there even were any. Everleigh had no idea where they were, how long they'd been driving, or even the direction they were heading. They mind as well just should have put a bag over her head; it would have had the same effect, except perhaps that would have been a little more unsettling. The road blurred past, never slowing, never ending, Everleigh's heart beat faster and faster with each passing second. The lack of acknowledgement from her cryptic guides was even more disconcerting; although they appeared to be harmless the creeping suspicions left her fidgeting and wary.

The car finally came to a stop and the dread fell like an anvil into Everleigh's stomach. The two back doors of the car opened simultaneously allowing both women in the back to crawl out into what appeared to be a car park for a very abandoned warehouse building. Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse; she was going to be murdered. What other explanation could there possibly be? Different plans ran through her mind, run, call 911, send out an SOS text to whoever's phone number was the most readily available, but before the opportunity arose to attempt any of them, the brown haired woman's eyes finally left her phone screen and met Everleigh's.

"This way," she instructed cheerily, turning on her heel.

As the pair of women walked through the heavy steel doors and into the dreary, haunting building the only sounds Everleigh could hear were the clunking of her and her leader's heels and the thumping of her own heart in her ears. The building was abandoned, just as she'd suspected. She could faintly make out graffiti plastering the otherwise barren walls as the lights above their heads flickered, casting ghostly shadows around the pair. The hallway seemed to never end as she was led deeper and deeper to what she was very certain was an untimely death. At least she'd been able to talk to her grandmother one last time, she'd seen John and even had a somewhat pleasant evening with Sherlock, that was about as pleasant as he could get she thought. Would anyone find her? What were these people going to do with her once they killed her, leave her there? Throw her in the river? She certainly wasn't looking forward to this mildew ridden air being the last breath she'd ever take, but that was a trivial detail compared to what she should be worrying about.

"In here," the mystery woman sounded as she stopped outside of set of double doors, her eyes again locked down onto her phone.

"Who's in there?" Ev asked, stopping on the other side of the doorframe.

"Can't tell you. He's waiting for you."

"You don't really expect me to go in there, do you? You want me to go willingly into a room with a strange man, in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere? This is the beginning of a murder-mystery Halloween special!"

"He's not gonna kill you. I don't think."

"Really reassuring. Thanks."

Suddenly, the doors beside them opened and Everleigh peered inside. The room was lit the same as the rest of the building, flickering white light, which illuminated a huge stone-floored room. There were water damaged storage boxes pushed up against the walls, all appeared to have been rummaged through long ago, and a forklift toppled over onto its side, all in all, it looked like something straight out the movies. Everleigh had just watched her fair share of horror movies, for which she was thankful for at this moment. Don't run up any stairs, keep your breathing soft and level and keep your clothes on, those seemed to be always be the downfalls of all the women in those types of films. The increasingly impatient woman across her nudged her head in the direction of the open room, jutting her jaw out in annoyance.

"Come in Dr. Braxton. I only wish to speak with you," a man's voice sounded from deep within the room, it was soft yet authoritative, not exactly the voice of a murderer, but they always were the one you'd least expect.

"Who are you?" Ev yelled back to him, her feet firmly planted on the cement floor.

"Come inside and I'll explain."

This was it. Everleigh swallowed hard and took what she very well thought would be her final steps. She walked into the center of the room, keeping her eyes moving trying to catch sight of who awaited her, but no one came. The room was silent, no sound or flicker of movement hinted to where her hidden guest loomed.

"Leave us," he boomed again from the shadows, the two men in the room walking out, leaving just Everleigh and her lurking interrogator.

"Where are you? Stop skulking about," Ev demanded, shocking herself with the courage that resonated in her voice.

As if right on cue, a man emerged from the shadows of back right corner. He was tall, a little plump, with reddish brown hair and a mischievous little grin plastered on his face. He carried an umbrella in his right hand, which he used as a sort of walking cane it appeared. He looked very official and important from the way he dressed, and the way he carried himself. He didn't look like any sort of threat; she could easily outrun him even in heels if the need ever arose. He stopped a comfortable distance away from her and she couldn't help but think that little smirk on his face looked awfully familiar from the way his lips curled to the arch in his eyebrow.

"Who are you?" Ev asked, keeping her voice strong and unwavering.

"That's not important. I hold a minor position in the British government," he answered coyly.

"What do you want with me? I haven't done anything wrong."

"No, no. I only wish to know you're involvement with one Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock? Why do you care about Sherlock Holmes?"

"No particular reason, I'm only an interested party. What is your connection to him?"

"I don't have one. I barely know him."

"Yet you've been out to dinner with him this evening, visited his flat and him to yours, he's even gone to see you at work. St Bart's, am I correct? Emergency Department?"

"How…"
"It doesn't matter how. I just know. Enough with the boring questions Dr. Braxton, please just answer mine and we can all be on our way."

If Everleigh had felt uneasy before, it was nothing compared to what she felt now. This man knew more about what she'd done in the last few weeks than she could remember. The creeping suspicion that this was who was leaving her calls and photos was becoming more and more real. Yet instead of drowning in the terror that crashed into her mind, she pushed herself up and felt a new courage break through the dark barriers. Her back straightened and chin raised, it was time to take a stand against her own self-loathing as Sherlock had pointed out just an hour ago.

"I don't have any involvement with him. I'm a friend of his flat mate's, John Watson," she told him; although it wasn't the entire truth it was a version of it.

"Ah yes, Dr. Watson, the soldier. You and him seem to share a similar quality. Loyalty to those who have not earned it," he replied, his face turning to one of disappointment, "I have a proposition for you, it's very simple, and it garners a very handsome reward."

"And what's that?"

"All I ask, is that you report in to me on a regular basis about the well being and activities of Sherlock Holmes."

"You want me to spy on him?"
"Well there's no need for such harsh terms. I like to think of it as concern."

"What makes you think he would even let me around enough to get you whatever information you wanted?"

"Oh I think it's safe to say he would."

"No."

"I haven't even told you my offer yet."
"I won't spy on him for you. You seem to be very good at doing that yourself."

"Yes, on people like you but Sherlock Holmes is much more difficult, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Is it you? Calling me all the time from blocked numbers, leaving unmarked parcels on my doorstep?"

"I'm afraid not, although I am aware of your little, problem. If the need arises, I would be able to help you, but you have to help me in return."

"So that's it then, your help in exchange for a play by play of Sherlock's life?"

"Essentially."

As much as Everleigh wanted to turn this asinine proposition away, it was a very tempting offer. On one hand what if Sherlock couldn't help? Or wouldn't? She would need someone, and could this man really stop the endless harassment? On the other, spying was wrong on every basic moral level and Everleigh highly doubted this request was based on 'concern' as he had tried to convince her. But what did he care about Sherlock Holmes? He wasn't a threat, if anything he must be some sort of relief, getting criminals off the streets, solving murders. Did Sherlock know something? Had he figured something out? If anyone could uncover secrets on the British government it was certainly Sherlock Holmes, so the likely answer was yes. In her heart, she felt a deep-seated loyalty to Sherlock; in no way did he deserve to be taken advantage of. As brilliant and perceptive as he was, his knowledge of relationships and social etiquette were sub par. She knew that a small piece of him trusted her, and that tiny faith needed to be upheld and cherished, for it was not given away lightly. No, this man was wrong, Sherlock deserved every speck of loyalty that she and everyone else held for him. He trusted them and any sever in that trust would quite possibly break him.

"Well? What do you say?" a smooth voice interrupted Ev's train of thought.

"No," Ev spat, pulling her shoulders back and bore her eyes straight into the person across from hers.

"Pity. Just so you know, Sherlock Holmes is a dangerous man. Cunning, manipulative; he has neither compassion nor capacity for emotion. He is an intellectual savage, willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary for the solution to his latest puzzle. The only thing Sherlock can do for you, is destroy you slowly, tear you apart piece by piece until he's unraveled you to the deepest level. It would be in your best interest, Everleigh, to stay as far away from him as you can."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I've known Sherlock longer than anyone. Deep down you know it's true; he is dangerous. Take care, Dr. Braxton."

Everleigh watched as the still unknown man walked back into the corner he'd emerged from, leaving her with even more questions than she'd come in with. Behind her, the steel doors opened once more and the familiar clunk of the young woman's heel became audible. As Everleigh moved to turn and walk out of the room and hopefully back to her own car and her own flat, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

In case you need anything.

-SH

A smile erupted on her face, unhindered and warm. Her chest swelled with happiness as she placed her phone back into her pocket. No, Sherlock Holmes would not be her downfall, he couldn't be. For the first time in a long while, Everleigh felt hope for the future, she felt happy and real and Sherlock Holmes had a part to play, she didn't know what that role was but he was apart of this. She turned to look at her guide but her smile didn't waver, the nervous jitters were gone and a renewing strength had taken their place.

A/N: So, (!) Benedict (!)…. That was me that talked to him on Jimmy Kimmel! It was embarrassing and nerve wracking, but hearing that man say 'thank you very much' to me melted my heart! Now you all know what my silly, fangirling face looks like! Haha.

Hope everyone liked this chapter, it's short and no Sherlock sorry, but I love Mycroft! I hope I kept him true to character I did research before hand! And I like Ev with a backbone! ;-) Please Follow/Favorite/Review, I love them so very much. Doreandrix and the always so very lovely indescribablemusic, thank you so very much for your kind words! I'm glad to hear it's moving at a believable pace! I'm getting inpatient knowing what's in store for later...

Don't forget the story blog! It'll be getting more active as the story progresses! And you can always ask questions there! Everleigh-rose on tumblr!

How does anyone feel about a Cabin Pressure fluffy little number? It'd be short and cheesy, but maybe fun?
Sorry for this long drawn out message I'm sure no one has gotten through! Lol.