Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

A Client In The Bedroom

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: A CLIENT IN THE BEDROOM

~The next day, St. Bartholomew’s Hospital’s lab~

Sherlock could tell that something was troubling Amelia by the way she frantically tapped the notes to Track and Field’s “Running Up That Hill” on her knee. He only knew the song because Amelia had once said it was one of her favourite songs, and Sherlock had spent the whole day trying to find the sheet music for it. He’d play it to her every time she turned down a field mission, knowing that she desperately wanted to go but chose not to because she needed to stay safe for Sherlock’s sake. Playing the song for her was a way for making for all the trouble Amelia had gone through for him.

“You okay?” Molly asked Amelia, cocking her head. Amelia nodded in response. Molly had, surprisingly, taken the news of Amelia and Sherlock’s relationship well, seeing how the two were a perfect match for each other. In Molly’s humble opinion, she thought that Sherlock needed Amelia as much as Amelia needed Sherlock.

Sherlock kept Amelia grounded; stopping her from being too rash and jumping straight into the line of fire. He kept her attitude in check with a single glare, and teased her to keep her focused. Her temper was wildfire, quick to ignite and impossibly difficult to put out, and Sherlock was the only person who could calm her, somehow knowing the right words to say and how to say them.

Amelia, on the other hand, taught Sherlock everything she knew. She taught him how to use others’ words to his advantage, how to anticipate an attack before it happened, how to read a person’s body language to determine whether or not they were telling the truth. But most important of all, she taught him how to be human.

Sherlock sighed in exasperation as he examined the x-ray of Irene’s phone on a computer screen, seeing four small round, black areas, one in each corner of the phone. Molly came up behind him, “Is that a phone?”

“It’s a camera phone.” Amelia answered for Sherlock, ignoring his dark look as she hopped onto the bench littered with toxins that could, no doubt, severely injured her if she came in contact with them. Thankfully, Amelia’s MI6 training had made her very agile, co-ordinated, and well aware of surrounding, which meant the likelihood of her knocking one of the Erlenmeyer flasks over was next to zero.

“And you’re X-raying it?” Molly continued questioning suspiciously.

“Yes, I am.” Sherlock confirmed.

“Whose phone is it?” Molly said, intrigued.

“A woman’s.” Sherlock replied.

“Your girlfriend?” Molly looked to Amelia with a confused look.

She laughed, “You think it’s my phone because he’s x-raying it? It’s actually a woman MI6’s had an eye on for a while. Not mine.”

“Well,” Molly said, tittering at her mistake, “we all do silly things.”

“Yes.” Sherlock said very suddenly, sounding inspired. He looked round to Molly, his eyes lighting up, “They do, don’t they? Very silly.” Both Amelia and Molly looked at him in confusion as he jumped to his feet and retrieved the phone out of the x-ray machine he’d been using, completely ignoring the large caution sign saying not to do that, holding up the phone. “She sent this to my address and she loves to play games.”

“She does?” Molly said.

“Highly trained spy,” Amelia informed Molly, keeping in mind what she was allowed to disclose to civilians as if she couldn’t persuade people to keep their mouths shut, “of course she does. That’s why it took so long for us to catch up to her.”