A/N Well hello my beautiful readers! I know, I know, it's been too long. Originally, I had planned on uploading this on New Years Day so you'd have an extra treat AS WELL AS the Christmas special, (What did you guys think of that, by the way?) but for some reason my computer wouldn't let me so I had to walk away calmly and try REALLY hard not to take a hammer to it.
But here we are, so it's all good!
Now, two things before you start reading:
1. After serious consideration, I have decided that the first part of Audrey's adventures at Baker Street will end after The Reichenbach Fall. I know it all seems very sudden, but I just felt like there was a good place to take a break from everything. I plan on continuing onto part two where The Empty Hearse picks up. It is for that reason that
2. The chapters will become a bit shorter from now on, to drag out this episode as much as possible.
I apologize for any disappointment this may cause and, to make it up to you, I've written something special near the end of this chapter. I hope you like it. ;)
Happy reading!
"You're going to what?"
Sebastian Moran sits opposite his beaming employer, still trying to process the information he had just been made privy to. James Moriarty picks an invisible speck of dirt from his lapel, clasps his hands together, and leans forward on the table.
"The Tower of London." He whispers scandalously before letting out a bark of laughter.
Moran blinks at the excited man before clearing his throat. "Can I ask…why?"
"Why what?"
"Why you're breaking into one of the most, if not the most, highly fortified buildings in London…Just to catch Sherlock Holmes's attention?"
Moriarty glances to the right and then back to Moran, as though his right-hand man is missing part of the joke.
"Well…why not?"
"But…" Moran trails off, deep in thought. "I thought that you had no interest in Holmes anymore? It's the girl you want, yes?" His brow furrows, and he scratches his head absentmindedly. These past few months, his employer's plans had changed so often and drastically that he wasn't quite sure what their end-goal was at this point.
"Oh yes, yes, yes. Of course it's her I'm after." Moriarty waves his hands dismissively. "But Mr Holmes has become infatuated with the girl. I daresay he's falling in love with her." Disgust laces his voice as he utters the words. "Not that he would ever own up to it." He adds as an after-thought. "But with my men following each and every move they make….His motives towards her have become extremely apparent." A dark look clouds Moriarty's already obsidian eyes. "No…Sherlock Holmes has to go." He reaches into his breast-pocket and pulls out relatively small book, which he rests on the marble-top table and slides across to Moran. "I have one last task for our little sorceress."
Sebastian glances at Moriarty before taking the book in one hand and reading its cover.
"Paradise Lost."
"Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to thank for my deliverance – Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock, John and I stand awkwardly alongside the rescued banker, his wife and his son. As the crowd applauds, the boy smiles and offers a small gift-wrapped box to Sherlock, who takes it with a strained smile and rattles it rather violently for a brief moment.
"Tie pin. I don't wear ties." He mutters.
John shushes him and smiles towards the photographers. "I daren't think of what may have become of me," the teary-eyed banker continues, "had Mr Holmes not saved the day."
"Oh for the love of god a plumber could have solved this case." Sherlock intones, none-too-quietly, it would seem, as the man and his wife throw him a funny look. I give Sherlock a reproachful dig in his side and hiss at him from the corner of my mouth. "Would you like to say that any louder, dear?"
**********24 HOURS AGO**********
"The cheat sheet." Sherlock points to a sheet of paper lying on the floor of the car park, his expression one of utmost boredom.
"Come again?" Lestrade asks, frowning.
"The kidnapper – if that's what you could even call him, I'd go for something more along the lines of imbecile – has left his cheat-sheet behind." Sherlock rubs his forehead wearily. "It's a chronological outline of exactly how he plans to execute the kidnapping."
"You've got to be joking." I exclaim as Lestrade lets out a low whistle. "Blimey, I didn't even notice that lying there!" He glances at me and joins in laughing. "Yeah, we've got ourselves a grade A moron."
"Detective Inspector, you are wasting my time." Sherlock snaps, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the exit.
"No no no no Sherlock, please," I squeeze his forearm and force him to stop. "I wanna see what he looks like!" Sherlock rolls his eyes and I hear Lestrade chuckle behind us. He opens the passenger door of his squad car and motions inside.
"By all means, Audrey, come along!"
Sherlock throws Lestrade a threatening look, but the Detective Inspector misses it, having already slid into the driver's seat. "You know, I think I will Greg, thanks." I call behind me, eyes locked on Sherlock's.
The tall, curly man huffs irritably, but leads me towards the police car all the same. I make to hop into the front seat beside Lestrade, but Sherlock pulls me back so suddenly I swear I'm airborne for a second.
"No, you're sitting beside me." He murmurs, opening the car door with a flourish. I try to scowl at the smirking man, but secretly I'm ridiculously pleased with his fits of jealousy.
"Where we headed?" Lestrade enquires, eyeing us from the rear-view mirror.
"Stoke Newington." Sherlock replies tiredly. "St Mary's Lodge."
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at an incredibly dodgy, derelict building. It looks to me as though it had been a rather elegant house in its time, however years of abandonment had eaten away at it like moths to a silk pashmina. Lestrade signals to his police force, who silently and stealthily circle the crumbling lodge. Then he and Sherlock look at each other, nod, and walk towards the entrance of the building.
"Audrey, stay in the car." Sherlock warns in a quiet voice, but his eyes widen in surprise as he glances back to find me standing only a few centimetres away from him.
"That's cute." I whisper, smiling sweetly. He throws me a look of disapproval, but remains quiet. Following Lestrade, who leads the congregation with a pointed gun, Sherlock peers around the ruined architecture with mild interest. Suddenly, we hear the sound of tape being ripped from its roll, and an urgent male voice. Lestrade holds a finger to his lips and motions towards the door to our left.
"…three million, or he gets it." The man's shaky voice breaks the silence. "I mean it." But before the kidnapper can make any further threats, Sherlock loudly kicks the door open and Lestrade hurries inside, gun aimed at the ready.
"Hands where I can see them!" He barks at the man, who immediately drops the phone and roll of tape. Lying a few yards behind him is the abducted banker, squirming inside a green sleeping bag and making muffled sounds through his taped mouth.
"...barely a two." I hear Sherlock grumble beside me.
"Whats that?" Lestrade calls over to us as he snaps handcuffs shut around the hands of the (quite frankly nervous looking) kidnapper.
"I don't leave the flat for anything under seven, Lestrade." He scowls at the Detective Inspector. "You know that." Lestrade ignore him, and moves instead to extract the struggling banker from his squishy cocoon.
"Th-thank you." The man gasps once he removes the remainder of the tape from his lips.
"It's him you should be thanking, mate." Lestrade nods his head towards Sherlock, who sighs deeply before attempting a tight-lipped smile. I step past Sherlock and help the man stand up and out of the plushy prison.
"I'm Audrey, by the way." I grin up at the slightly-shaking man, extending my hand. He smiles warmly and shakes it. (My hand, I mean, not his body. Though I'm sure he could pull some impressive shapes on the dance floor if he really put his mind to it.)
The man turns towards Sherlock and gazes at him as if the sun shone from his behind. "And your name, Mister...?"
"Tired and bored." Sherlock replies.
"Boffin." Sherlock growls the word indignantly. "Boffin Sherlock Holmes." His frown deepens as he reads further down the page.
After a recent surge of cases, all solved in the nick of time, Sherlock Holmes had since become a household name. That, and his successful debunking of the mystery behind Baskerville, had transformed Sherlock's social status from a very private Private Detective to celebrity Sleuth.
He throws the Daily Star away from him, and it lands in a sad heap at the end of the bed. I momentarily stop brushing my hair, and twist around to glance at him from the edge of the mattress.
"I'd say you got off lightly. I can think of far worse nicknames."
"Oh really?" Sherlock asks, humour colouring his tone. "Such as?"
I turn away from him and continue running the comb through my hair. "Know-it-all, loud-mouth….smart-arse…" I peep at him over my shoulder, smirking. "In fact, boffin is a compliment." Sherlock opens his mouth, no doubt to shoot back some nasty retort, but snaps it shut again as if a new thought has come to mind. He leans back into the pillow, a smug smile playing on his lips.
"You're quite right, you know."
I make a small 'humph' sound in approval and turn my back on him once more.
"It's not nearly as bad as yours." He continues after a second of silence. I whip around suddenly, so suddenly that I feel something pop in my neck.
"What?" I hiss, massaging the burning muscle.
He points to the crumpled paper, smirking. "Page five, column six, first sentence."
I all but dive onto the newspaper and hastily flip through the pages.
"Live-in groupie Audrey Dubois?" I screech, my face heating up. "A fucking groupie!? I've helped solve most of these goddamn cases!" I glower at the ridiculous article and, without a second's thought, I grab the top of the page, wrench it from its place, ball it up in my fist, and hurl the offending object at Sherlock's head. He dodges it carelessly and continues to snigger.
"Those twats – they're making me out to be some simpering school-girl! If only they knew what I've been – SHERLOCK HOLMES SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU DO NOT STOP LAUGHING..."
Sherlock lifts his arms in mock surrender. "Don't turn on me, I didn't write the bloody article." I open my mouth to reply but, to my utter mortification, I feel my eyes begin to well up with tears. I don't know why I'm letting the journalists words affect me like this, but I can't help feeling hurt, and almost cheated, that the majority of the English population now have this pre-conceived opinion of me.
I feel the bed shift as Sherlock moves closer. He positions himself right behind me, so that both of his suit-clad legs are at either side of me. He places one hand on my shoulder, while the other gently pulls my hair back from my face.
"Now, now. Let's have none of this."
I sniff loudly, and lean back into him. The sensation of his long fingers caressing my temple has an unbelievably calming effect. Sherlock strokes my hair away from my neck and tucks it behind my ear. "Don't you let those words get to you." He whispers, his warm breath tickling the side of my neck. "It will pass, Audrey. Give it time, and it will pass."
I sigh contentedly. "You're very good at this."
"At what?" Sherlock asks, running one finger softly from the edge of my ear lobe, down to my collarbone.
"…Distracting me." I say rather shakily.
"Is that so?" Sherlock replies calmly, his hands moving slowly down my arms to settle at my waist. "Then allow me to continue distracting." He lowers his head and begins to leave soft, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. My eyes flutter closed as I find myself arching into him.
He moves from kissing to softly sucking at the skin under my jaw. As his hands move further south, I grow warmer and warmer. In an attempt to satisfy the burning sense of need in the pit of my stomach, I turn my head sideways and close the distance between his face and mine.
He lifts one hand from my stomach and cups my face, pulling me in as his lips capture mine. The kiss starts slow, and tender, and then becomes more urgent. I twist around to face him, needing to be closer, closer. Now kneeling between his legs, I wrap my arms around his neck and the kissing deepens.
Sherlock's hands tighten around my waist and he pulls me closer still, so that I'm straddling him. He breaks away from the kiss, breathing hard and staring at me with a hunger in his eyes I've never seen before. Shifting in his lap slightly, I notice that I'm not the only one getting all hot and bothered down there. The movement seems to break whatever trance Sherlock had been in and, pulling me down against him, he resumes kissing with renewed intensity. The sensation of him between my legs sends a current of pleasure through me, and I can't help the soft moan that escapes me as his tongue caresses mine.
Yet somewhere, in the coherent part of my brain, I hear a small voice telling me to slow down. Sherlock, once again confirming my belief that he can in fact, read minds, gently releases my lips and pulls back to look at me.
"Sorry about that." His voice is low, and gruff. "I got a bit carried away with the distracting." I can see in his eyes that he too is wondering just how far this could have gone if he had not pulled away.
I giggle softly. "No need to apologise. It was very lovely."
We stay in the same position for a moment – my arms locked around his neck, his grabbing my hips – breathing heavily. That is until I notice I'm still only in my nightdress.
"I should probably get dressed…" I make to detach myself from Sherlock's grip. His hold tightens for a split-second, before letting go.
"Yes. You really should." His tone is good-humoured, yet it doesn't quite match the darkness in his eyes. Before his gaze reignites the fire in my core that I had just successfully cooled, I sashay to the bathroom like the sex kitten I am and internally high-five myself.
I am almost certain that that was not a British Army Browning L9A1 in his pocket, and he was, in fact, very pleased to see me.
A HUGE thank you to all of my readers and reviewers! Your comments and feedback always bring a smile to my face and make me so happy. I hope that this chapter does the same for you.
Until next time!
P.s Can anyone guess who Moriarty wants Audrey to read out this time?