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

Chapter 4- Favours

Emily's POV

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Millie Shon. I scan her profile on the National Registrations database. It's very rare for me to hack for recreational purposes- I normally save it for the clients. But clients have been less than willing to approach me recently; my name has become marred by association with Sherlock Holmes. It's understandable, I suppose.

I'm mentally chastising myself for not doing my research properly. If I'm trying to emanate an aura of cold professionalism, knowing who and what makes my opposition tick is fundamental. And I let Millie slip right through my fingers. From a deviant's point of view, she's perfect leverage, and, although I have no current intentions of letting this intellectual sparring match develop into a full-blown battle, I will not hesitate to use her against Sherlock if the situation arises.

There's something else on my mind, too. Someone.

Jim Moriarty. That name crops up a lot. Was he really the man who called to inform me of Sherlock's investigations? True, he had an Irish accent. But so do lots of people.

I have been contacted by hundreds of significant criminals, but never anyone with the name Moriarty.

He sounds interesting.

I continue gathering information on Millie Shon. She's certainly different. Not typically pretty, but unique. I'm more interested in her work profile. She's a detective, specialising in criminal psychology. Currently situated in East Africa, working on an investigative case. She doesn't have family. Parents are dead, no siblings. No apparent history of crime- although it looks like someone, somewhere, erased a chunk of her timeline- or political activity. This is basic information. I need more.

I lean back into the chair, and massage my temples. This is a slow process; I need to know how she relates to Sherlock, not how many cases she's solved in the last decade.

My phone makes a noise, and I turn it over, to reveal a text.

Come to Baker Street. Immediately. SH

I make a noise of irritation. How did he get hold of my number? I'll have to change it again. I tap back a reply.

Sorry. Other commitments. -ES

I get a response seconds later.

You'll like this. SH

I smile. He knows how to get my attention. I don't bother replying. I don't need to. Instead, I shut down my laptop, pocket my phone, and close the door behind me.

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I'm halfway there when my phone starts to ring. I pull it out of my pocket, and stop, suddenly, to the annoyance of the bustling crowd around me.

It's the number.

I'm ready for it this time, and I steel myself for his voice:

"Hello?"

"Hi, Emily," he says, with a nonchalance I can't quite master. I decide to take the risk.

"Jim Moriarty?"

Laughter.

"Where are you?"

"Nowhere special."

"Are you in public?"

"Yes."

"Go somewhere quiet."

I slowly walk to an empty lane that breaks away from the main street.

"Why are you calling?" I ask.

"Because I'm offering you information. A favour, if you will."

"I'm listening."

"What would you like to know about Millie Shon?"

I stop dead.

"What can you tell me?"

"More than you think. See, I've met her. And I know you're interested. I can tell you this, can't I? Criminal to criminal?"

He's enjoying this.

"Go on."

"I wouldn't call what they have-" he breaks off, obviously grinning, "-a relationship, but it's definitely something you could... take advantage of, if you wanted to."

"That's nothing I didn't know already. What about Irene?"

"Oh, you have been doing your research. Irene Adler? Saucy little harlot. But he's not interested, I'm afraid." He puts on an affected tone. "She's too simple for our precious detective. But Millie, now, there's definitely something going on there."

Silence.

"Emily, before you go, I think I need to tell you something."

I knew there would be a catch.

"All favours have a price."

The phone rings off; the metallic hum of a vacant line.

I frown at his words, still holding the receiver to my ear. Sherlock was right about this man. He's dangerous. I return my phone to my pocket, and enter the street, fading into the crowd, and follow the general direction of movement, until I see a sign for Baker Street. I break away from the throng of people, suddenly alone on the empty road. I wait for a minute, unsure whether I should continue.

My phone vibrates.

I roll my eyes, as I read the message.

What are you waiting for? SH

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