--
"So, where are we going first?" John asked the man sitting next to him in the taxi they were currently riding.
"We must look at the tapes of the main entrance of the building of the gouvernement officials, which should have caught the woman's face. Once we know how the suspect looks, it will be much easier to figure out the rest." The detective explained.
"Amazing! I didn't even think of that." Exclaimed the blogger, looking at Sherlock in admiration.
"Just a simple logical conclusion, nothing special." Shrugged the latter, but deep down he felt proud.
After a few minutes, the taxi stopped in front of a tall building.
Having payed the cabbie, the two men set out in the direction of the main entrance and to the information desk, where Sherlock managed to get one of the workers to show him the recording tapes of the hall cameras.
He scrolled on and on, scanning each moment that passed on screen, before abruptly pausing the video. He took out his phone, made a call, and, as soon as the person on the other end answered, he asked them one short question.
"Was the time that woman visited you around 6:45 in the evening?"
The person to whom he was talking to replied something which John could not hear.
"Good." And with that, he hung up, placing his phone back in his pocket. He turned to his partner, "I found her." He pointed to the screen, which showed a tall woman with long blond curls in a simple black dress.
"Nice job, Sherlock." Watson smiled, "How are we going to find her though?"
"You'll see." The detective answered mysteriously, before taking out his phone and taking a picture of the woman on the screen, sending it to someone with a short message, typing extremely fast. He then pocketed his phone once more and faced John.
"Let's go."
"Where?" Asked Watson.
"221B Baker Street. I did the first bit of research, and Mycroft's men will do the rest." Was Sherlock's short answer.
--
It was around nine o'clock when the two males returned to their shared flat. Once they entered the living room, the delicious smell of homemade food invaded their nostrils.
"I didn't know you knew how to cook, James." John said in awe as he stared at the large dinner sitting on the kitchen table.
"Surprise! Although I'm sure Sherlock had already figured it out. Didn't you?" He asked with a bright half-smile, turning to look at Holmes.
"I..." He trailed off, "Thank you for the meal."
Watson was about to point out the sudden change of subject, but James didn't seem to notice, or he just didn't mind. He pulled out a chair for Sherlock with a "You're welcome." and offered John to take a seat on the chair he was standing next to.
"You're not joining us?" Asked the blogger as he noticed that the emerald eyed man didn't take a seat, leaning against the kitchen counter instead.
"I'm not hungry, thank you. Enjoy."
He noticed the detective eyeing the food and added, "And I don't want to hear anything about you being on a case, Sherlock. You're eating, and that's final."
"Alright, since you took your time making this especially for us." He surrendered with a little sigh.
--
The next day, just as Sherlock lay down in his bed, sleeping peacefully, his phone rang. He groaned, opening his eyes, and grabbed his phone. As soon as he read the caller ID, all his sleepiness vanished in one go and he picked up immediately.
"Yes?"
"Not even an ounce of information was found on the woman." The person on the other end, who turned out to be Mycroft, notified him, "I'm afraid I need you again, brother mine."
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
"So you're just going to barge into my office and—"
Not ready to listen to his brother's long tirades first thing in the morning, Sherlock hung up on the spot.
A knock was heard on his door, and he knew immediately that it was James as John knocked differently.
"Yes?"
"How's the investigation going?" Finns asked through the door.
"Good." He lied, his gut telling him that James should not know of the failure to figure out the woman's identity.
"Liar." This answer surprised him.
"What?"
"I said 'liar'. Now tell me the truth."
"...We couldn't find any information on the woman."
"Have you ever considered that that could be because there actually isn't any information to find?" James suggested.
"Could you elaborate?"
"That the person didn't just stop at simply putting on a masquerade mask, but put on a full disguise." He clarified.
"That could be a possibility." Suddenly he remembered, "Shit, I'm supposed to be in Mycroft's office in eight minutes!"
He could hear steps going away from his room, meaning that James left.
Sherlock scrambled out of bed and hastily put on a shirt and dress pants along with some simple shoes before rushing out of the house and hailing a cab, of course not forgetting his trench coat and scarf.
In five minutes' time he was in said office, sitting on the one chair facing the desk his brother was sitting at.
"Good morning, brother mine." Mycroft greeted politely.
He decided not to waste any time with greetings and got straight to the point, telling Mycroft about James's theory.
"That's an interesting way to look at it." The eldest Holmes hummed, "Where could he have gotten that from, I wonder..."
"No idea." Sherlock shrugged, "He's a genius, and even I don't know what goes on inside his head."
"You're admitting that someone else's a genius?" Mycroft raised a brow in surprise.
"If you knew him better, you'd understand."
"Your praise certainly gives me the desire to learn more about him."
"Can't you just look into the files the gouvernement has on him?" Sherlock furrowed a brow.
"Despite having many basic information, there's not many things on his personality." Mycroft sighed, "We only know that he's kind, polite, and mysterious."
"That's interesting." The younger Holmes commented.
"Could you tell him that I'd like to see him here at three in the afternoon?" His brother asked.
Suddenly the door to his office flung open, revealing the woman with a masquerade mask who visited Mycroft the previous day.
"Oh, Sherly's here." She said in a singsong voice, "That's even better."
Sherlock immediately took out his revolver and pointed it at her, "It was your mistake, Miss."
"So you're telling me it's your win, Mister?" She chuckled.
"Exactly." He removed the safety on his gun, ready to fire any minute.
In a flash, a revolver was in her hand, safety off, as she aimed it at Mycroft's head, "You shoot and your dear Mikey's dead." She warned him.
"Darn you." He whispered under his breath, glaring at her.
"Don't worry though, I wasn't intending on killing anyone..." She paused, "...today." She finished with a little chuckle.
"Have a seat, Miss." Mycroft motioned to the one of the two chairs in front of his desk, appearing not bothered in the least.
She pocketed her gun and sat down, "Thanks, Mikey."
Sherlock kept her at gunpoint even though she was no longer pointing her revolver at his brother.
"Sherly, I'd recommend you don't shoot me." She grinned at him.
"And why that?"
"Because you'll regret it." She replied vaguely.
"Oh, really?" He asked in a sarcastic tone, raising a brow.
Instead of a reply, she untied her mask and placed it on Mycroft's table.
Sherlock's eyes widened, "James..."
"Oh, really?" She, or rather he, said, copying his tone and expression.
After a pause, he turned to his brother, "You wanted to see him right? I'd leave you two to it." With that, he stood up, pocketing his gun, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
james finns [sherlock x reader]
Start from the beginning
