You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 9*

"So I guess this is it," I say, looking away from the two men, ready to head back to my apartment. "I'll see you around, maybe at cases, but I have to go."

"Where are you going?" John questions, surprised that'd I'd be leaving so soon.

"Home. I can't stay," I respond as John walks out of the flat. I've got furniture to buy and set up at the house. I don't have the time to mess around with men.

"Why not?" Sherlock buts in, a smidge of eagerness in his voice.

"Well, you two need your space. I just showed up on the case, and I should've known better than to do that, but I just moved here."

"Exactly, why not? Who said you can't stay. I think you'd be a great help with John and I," Sherlock abruptly states, nearly catching me off guard.

"I don't know..." I say, unsure if I should stay. He could just being courteous and polite. I doubt someone would actually want me to stay.

"Actually, you could probably move in, if you wanted," Sherlock finishes. Of course he knows what I'm thinking. You can't just be polite when inviting someone to move in-- that's a semi-permanent endeavor.

"Oh." I sit back down on the chair. "Well, I guess I could... But why? You hardly know me."

"I don't see why not, but first I'd have to know your full name," Sherlock tells me.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," I state, somewhat joking yet he doesn't say another word.

***

"No, Please no. I'm begging you. Whatever you want!" The man yells.

"No. You did wrong, murdering that family. But you want to know the best part? How you thought you were going to get away with it." I laugh.

"Please, I have a family of  my own."

"You should have thought about that before you went and murdered a whole family." I say, raising the gun to his temple.

"If you kill me, that would be murder." He says, holding his hands in front of his face.

"I really don't care." I say just before I pull the trigger. A big bang goes off and I watch as his body fall to the ground, limp, lifeless, dead. A pool of blood piles over my feet. I just turn around, and walk away. I run home in my bloody shoes, and throw them in my fireplace.

***

"Well, if it's fine with both, John and you. I'm up for anything. I also saw something about a art museum case-" I start and Sherlock cuts me off.

"Where?" He asks, and he pulls out John's laptop.

"Mmm," I mumble under my breath, trying to think. I close my eyes, but by the time I'm about to say something he shouts out.

"Got it," his voice nearly shouts. "Nearby as well."

"Right, isn't it happening..."

"Tonight," Sherlock finishes my sentence. I raise a questioning eyebrow.

"You think-"

"Yes," he answers my question before I even ask it. A smirk plays on my lips. Of course he's on board and willing to participate.

"We're going to my house, right now. We are moving my things in. I'll text my parents," I say as I grab out my phone.

Moving out. Sell the place.

RB

I grab my coat and walk out of the flat, Sherlock following right behind me. I hop in a cab and say my address. The car ride is nearly silent. I wouldn't mind a conversation in the slightest, however I don't want to be a bother. Sherlock simply stares out the window, watching the cars pass us. Right as we get to my place, I get a call. I walk into the house and sit down on the floor.

"Yes?" I ask into the phone. I put it on speaker as I start grabbing a few of my belongings. Multitasking at its finest.

"What do you mean 'Moving out. Sell the place'?" My mother snaps in anger.

"What is that not supposed to mean?" I ask, and get a laugh from Sherlock. I send him an annoyed glare-- not because of him but rather the many questions I'm receiving. "I'm moving into my boyfriends house," I joke, but they believe me. Sherlock's head pops in from around the corner.

"Really? Oh dear god. Is he like you?" My mother asks. Quickly Sherlock speaks up.

"What does that mean?" Sherlock asks and I shove him away from my phone.

"Hello, Rachelle?" My mother asks.

"What?... Calm down, he's just a... co-worker," I answer truthfully. "I've got to go."

"Rachelle Baines! You better answer me with a full explanation," She yells into the phone.

"Bye, mother." I say, hanging up. Of course she insists on being a pain. Always asking so many questions and shouting about nonsense.

"Rachelle Baines? Baines?" He says trying to think of my name. "Baines? Billionaire Baines?" He questions in shock.

"Mmm, yeah..." I say, wishing he didn't know that. There was a reason I didn't want them knowing my full name. Too many things people can learn and use against me.

"Mother? That was Mrs. Baines?"

"Mmm, yeah..." I say again, ignoring his looks. "It's nothing special."

"Hmm," is all he responds with. He's thinking.

"Most people find out I'm a Baines, so they use me for the money or fame, then leave me, but to be honest... I don't really have money," I say, but he ignores me. I roll my eyes at the lack of response.

"You look nothing like them. Adopted," Sherlock concludes. I expected... more? That's all he has to say? Most people would jump at the chance to take my money or exploit me, yet he could care less. It's odd but almost endearing. I like knowing that he could care less about my family.

"Correct, Holmes."