Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Twenty One: Dangerous Liaisons

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: DANGEROUS LIAISONS

"What are you doing?" John asked as Sherlock rummaged through his wardrobe in a desperate search. He threw various articles of clothing over his shoulder with a frustrated shout, leaving mounds of discarded clothes littered around the room.

"You know, I've learnt to stop asking." Amelia said as she walked out into the living room, buttoning up a blazer. Her old outfit was stained in blood and various bodily fluids she couldn't quite identify, and she imagined-from the photos on her website-Irene Adler was not one to tolerate such unkempt appearances. Now, she wore a black blazer she had bought for herself a few Christmases past over a form-fitting, dark purple silk dress. She slipped on a pair of strappy black shoes with one hand, struggling to insert a pearl earring with the other.

"Going into battle, John." Sherlock said, storming into the room wearing a fluorescent yellow, hi-vis jacket. "I need the right amour."

Amelia eyed his outfit, looking sceptic. "No," she said. "I'm not going out with you dressed like that."

"Yet a sheet is perfectly acceptable." Sherlock said, exasperated. He frowned down at his outfit, "Dammit, you're right."

"Told you." she sang, leaning back into her chair with a glass of red wine in hand.

"At least I'm not dressed like I'm going to the opera." Sherlock shouted from the bedroom, continuing to dig through his clothes. He pulled out a brown plaid cape with a bronze clasp at the front then tossed it over his shoulder.

"Please," Amelia said, scoffing. "If I was going to the opera, I would be wearing something a lot nicer. I have class."

"But not modesty; your neckline demonstrates that clearly."

"Were you staring at my chest, Sherlock Holmes?" Amelia said, feigning anger. "Your mother will hear about this!"

"You're the one trying to seduce a dominatrix-perhaps I should give your mother a call!"

"No one is calling anyone's mother!" John interrupted, shouting. "Or I will call Mycroft and have you both locked up for the night!"

Sherlock stuck his head around the corner, meeting Amelia's eyes. "I'll get dressed. You call Harriet-Harry to talk to John."

"On it." Amelia tilted an imaginary cap, ignoring John as he sputtered in protest.

♠

"So," said John, "what's the plan?"

Amelia looked out the window of the cab. "We know her address."

John blinked twice, surprised by Amelia's plan, if you could call it a plan, that was. "What, just ring her doorbell?"

"Exactly." confirmed Sherlock. He leaned forward in his seat to speak to the cabbie. "Just here, please."

John's thoughts flicked back to the mess in the bedroom back at 221B. "You didn't even change your clothes."

"Then it's time to add a splash of colour." Sherlock said wryly, nearly jumping out of the cab, Amelia and John following after him. The detective led them down a nearby alleyway, yanking off his scarf and tossing it Amelia.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Amelia said, voice muffled as she struggled to get the scarf off of her face, "I am not your bloody coatrack!"

John snickered, then raised his eyebrow at Sherlock. "Are we here?"

Sherlock replied with a, "Two streets away, but this'll do."

Amelia's eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"