Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 74- Three Options

Millie's POV

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"Sherlock."

He doesn't look round, and continues striding ahead, coldly furious.

"Sherlock."

He ignores me, descending the stairs so quickly I almost stumble in my effort to keep up with him. I go down the steps two at a time, and reach out, catching his arm and pulling him to a stop.

"Sherlock, are you sure she was lying?"

John catches up, and interrupts, breathless-

"Of course she was lying. You saw them kiss. It didn't look manipulative and aggressive, did it? He was watching TV- she was baking cupcakes, for god's sake. If that doesn't say domestic, I don't know what does."

I turn away from John, and look at Sherlock, forcing him to listen to me with each enunciated syllable-

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know," he snaps, suddenly, turning round. John and I flinch at the frustration in his voice. He breathes in deeply, recollects himself, and starts again, more softly this time- "I don't know. I can't deduce anything from Moriarty. He's a blank piece of paper; he only gives away what he wants me to see. I couldn't tell if it was simply an act, or not. And there's nothing I hate more than not knowing."

"Sherlock, think about this. We can't leave this apartment complex until we know for certain that Emily was lying. If we do, we would be cutting her off, permanently. She'd be an adversary. We can't afford to have her as an enemy, unless it's absolutely necessary. You might not be able to analyse Moriarty, but you witnessed Emily's reaction: she's more open. Think back, and work out if she was lying," I say, trying to inject authority into my voice.

Sherlock stares at me, blankly, for a second, his eyes scanning my face with such intensity I have to stop myself from stepping backwards.

"We don't have much time. Think."

It's a trigger. Sherlock holds his head with both hands, closes his eyes, and begins pacing up and down the length of the stairwell, muttering half sentences under his breath.

John looks at me questioningly, but I shake my head,, and he says nothing.

Suddenly, Sherlock stops, his face smoothing out. He looks horrified.

"What is it?" asks John, urgently.

"She was telling the truth..." says Sherlock,  quietly, "She has to have been. How did I miss it? All the signs were there; discomfort, unease- there wasn't a change in pitch as she spoke, she didn't make prolonged eye contact," he breaks off, looking around, as if seeing things clearly for the first time. And then he focuses on us, and he looks angry: "This is why it's so dangerous."

"Hang on- what's dangerous?"

"Sentiment, John. Emotion clouds logic. Anger, betrayal- I missed the obvious, because I was feeling too much. And look at what it's cost us."

"We can fix this."

They both turn to look at me.

"We can go back, and we can rectify our mistake. She'll still be there. It's not too late."

Silence.

When they don't react, I decide to act for them. I turn on my heel, and start back up the stairs again, half-jogging. I hear the noise of quick footsteps behind me, so I don't stop.