From desk worker detective to Sergeant at Scotland Yard, Adelaide Gregson has come a long way from her days in Manhattan. When one consulting detective catches her eye, things get complicated. When a case now means life or death, will sentiment prov...
"Evening." I repeated to Sherlock. "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"
"Adelaide. What the hell?" He asked, confused.
"Bet you never saw this coming." I spoke his words. Sherlock stepped towards me slowly. What I saw on his face scared me more than the bombs. Doubt. He doubted me, he thought I was behind all of this.
Why don't you open up that little coat of yours, love. Let Sherlock see that pretty body wrapped up in explosives. Moriarty instructed me. I took my hands out of my pockets and opened the coat slightly so Sherlock could see. Moriarty had seemed to pick out the most scandalous and revealing dress he could find. Sherlock's eyes scanned every part of my body. The doubt on his face was replaced with fear.
"What would you like me to make her say next?" I spoke his words again.
"Gottle o' geer, gottle o' geer, gottle o' geer." I spoke.
"Stop it." Sherlock insisted.
"Nice touch, this. The pool, where little Carl died." I began, Sherlock continued stepping closer to me. "I stopped him. I could stop Adelaide Gregson, too. Stop her heart." I said. I looked down and saw a red dot on my chest. Moriarty's snipers.
"Who are you?" Sherlock said, looking around. The opposite pool door opened and Moriarty's true voice rang out.
"I gave you my number. Thought you might call." Moriarty said, approaching us from behind. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or do you like the dress I picked out for our little girl here."
"Both." Sherlock said, pulling the gun out of his pocket and pointing it to Moriarty.
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"Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."
I noticed Sherlock looking at the sniper line on me.
"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle." Moriarty said, noticing too. "I don't like getting my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."
"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Sherlock spoke.
"Just so." Moriarty replied, I could hear his voice getting closer.
"Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock said, keeping his gun steady on him.
"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will." He said.
"I did." Sherlock said, cocking the gun.
"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way." Moriarty said.
