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

Chapter 22-Sugar and Spice

Emily's POV

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I sigh heavily as I make my way up the stairs to my apartment. My last client was so frighteningly boring, wanting me to extract his ex-girlfriend's number from her private website. He was offering such ludicrous amounts of money for such a simple task, I didn't say no, but the experience was mind-numbingly dull. Maybe it's the people I have been spending time with recently; normal work just doesn't interest me any more.

I reach my door and push it open. The lock broke weeks ago, but I have no intention of fixing it- everyone around here knows better than to break in to my home. The lights are off and I'm in such a bad mood I don't bother turning them on, I just cross the room, grab an apple from the kitchen as I haven't eaten all day, and slam into my bedroom. I feel around in the dark, and slide the laptop out from under my bed. I haven't had a chance to use it yet; it's brand new and stupidly powerful. I straighten up, stretching, my dark thoughts slowly dissolving, when-

"You really should get that lock fixed."

I react immediately.

I spin round, pressing my forearm to the neck of the intruder and slamming their head against the wall. I flick the knife out of my pocket and press it into their jaw: not enough force to break the skin, but enough to issue a clear warning. I don't think; I move through instinct- years and years of combat training override any logic. But then I stop.

The person hasn't moved.

No reaction, no defence, just unnatural stillness. It's only when I see both hands still in their pockets do I make the connection.

"Careful, it's sharp."

I drop my stance immediately, and back away.

Jim Moriarty steps out of the shadows, tugging his suit jacket back into place.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I say, unable to stop myself.

He grins, shrugs, and says-

"Just thought I'd stop by. No reason in particular."

I gape at him, and his audacity. 

"Very impressive reflexes you have there, Emily. Combat training? Although you're lucky you didn't break the skin," he says, without blinking, "Because then you'd be dead."

"You're lucky I didn't cut your throat. Didn't anyone tell you that you shouldn't jump out at people in the dark?" I say, pocketing the blade and taking a long, steadying breath. 

"Oh, people have told me. I just choose not to listen," he says lightly, the corners of his mouth curving upwards.

My adrenaline levels don't decrease. Now that the shock is dying down, I'm able to assess the fact that I have a consulting criminal standing in my darkened apartment. He can't be here for anything unimportant. And whatever it is won't be beneficial to me at all.

He looks around, taking in my apartment and raising his eyebrows. Then, as I turn the light on, he says-

"And you were carrying a knife with you because...?"

"Because I was visiting a client. Better be safe than sorry," I say, through gritted teeth. He leans down and picks up the apple on the bed, and tosses it in his hand, thinking.

"Are you going to tell me why you're really here?" I ask, after the silence becomes painful.

"I think my reason will become apparent soon enough. And I've got to inform you of some... bad news," he says, with a smile that successfully causes my pulse to falter.