The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}

Chapter 21- Predacious Proprietor

Emily's POV

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"Don't get me wrong, I loved the Swiss luxury- but it's good to be home," says John, stepping into the familiar, dust-softened apartment of 221B and breathing in the motes with purposeful exaggeration.

We're all exhausted. The journey was a nightmare. Mycroft decided that we didn't deserve an opulent flight back, so we spent the duration being tossed around by turbulence, crammed in next to strangers who should really learn the etiquette of personal hygiene. We were escorted into taxis, and driven back to Baker Street in silence. John realised that he'd misplaced his suitcase when we were halfway down the M25, so we had to turn back. And then, just after we'd staggered out of the vehicle, we were ambushed by Mrs. Hudson, in a rush of flour and angora jumpers; hugged relentlessly and kissed unwillingly. We're all bearing lipstick-shaded war wounds on our cheeks, that refuse to shift even with the most persistent of rubbing.

I'm staying here for the night, because I'm too drained to make the trek across suburban London back to my apartment. Sherlock is the only one of us who doesn't seem to be on the brink of collapse. He hasn't said much since we left Switzerland. John spent the flight texting Mary, who, after their rushed exchange of numbers, has been in constant contact. Sherlock just stared broodingly out the window. I was forced to sit next to a man with an astoundingly low mental capacity, who kept trying to make conversation about the cost of avocados. Eventually, I stopped trying to preserve my integrity, and amused myself by picturing the different ways that I could end his life in my head.

There's a heatwave in London, at the moment. It's the beginning of May, and so uncharacteristically hot it's verging on uncomfortable. Especially considering that we have just returned from the land of constant snowfall and sub-zero temperatures. It's late evening now. The air is so dense with heat and suspended water, it's like inhaling liquid. Everyone has retreated to their bedrooms, and I've taken over the main sofa, curled up against the cracked leather. The apartment of 221B has always struck me as haphazardly cosy; a combination of frosted test tubes, heavy curtains, and stacks of precariously piled books, all contained within walls pasted with mismatching patterns. My apartment in comparison is very bleak: the empty spaces furnished purely for the sake of necessity. 

I fall asleep feeling unusually content, a state of mind that rarely graces me with it's presence.

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I'm awake before the others. My internal body clock has been sufficiently shaken, set back a good couple of hours, so it's just beginning to get light outside; chinks of a reluctant, smog-streaked sun shifting gently between the parted curtains. However, I am aware that this is deceptive. It might look cold outside, but past experience and the dry heat of yesterday tells me that today is going to be another scorching twelve hours to endure.

I get dressed, and retrieve my scattered belongings from the surrounding area. I won't wake them up. I'm sure they'd favour the extra sleep over a chance to say goodbye to me. Besides, it won't be long before I see them again.

I descend the stairs, as quietly as I can, and unlock the door, stepping out into the morning. I was right. Even at this temperature, the unrelenting heat is clawing it's way through the starved air, coiling around concrete and making the road ahead of me shimmer. 

As I sit in the back of the taxi, I find my mind wandering back to Moran, and the events at Zermatt. He's like me, in many respects. It's all about impulse. True, he did meticulously plan the kidnapping, and manage to lure us out to Switzerland, but when it comes down to it, he will always be the type of man who relies on instinct, and instinct alone. Sherlock and Moriarty are the calculators; the minds behind the crime, whether it be solving it or causing it. Millie slots nicely between the two extremes, and perhaps that is why she's the most stable out of us all.