The Woman

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Kyna's POV:

My dreams were unsettling that night. I woke up startled, thinking someone was shouting my name, calling for help. Disoriented, I tried to untangle my legs from the twisted sheets.

".... from here!" It was Sherlock's voice that was shouting. I could hear John too, but he was much quieter, as if he were trying to calm Sherlock down.

...And there was a new voice.

"Mister Holmes you are entirely too stressed and it's making you rash." It was a woman's voice- not Molly's.

"Get out!" I heard him shout.

"Nonsense. I think I'll sleep in your bed... You'd certainly like that." There was a wicked silence. I suddenly realized that I was sleeping in what had been Sherlock's bed... and my door was not locked.

"Wait, woman-" but the knob was already turning. The woman flicked the light on.

We stared at each other.

She was model thin. Her collarbone jutted out and pronounced her slender neck and chiseled jawline.

Her eyes were dark as obsidian and her mouth was blood red and wide, stretching in a lovely smile. Her hair was pulled back in a French twist, and was dark brown, almost black. Her nails were diamond claws and she wore a black pencil skirt, blood red ten inch high heels, and a white fur coat. Her arms were bedecked with more diamond jewelry.

She arched a perfect eyebrow.

"Mister Holmes. If I had known that this is what you like, I would've certainly gotten you some... toys to play with."

She smirked.

"Irene, stop assuming the most perverse things. This is my daughter, Jocelyn." Sherlock barged past her, half blocking her view of me. John awkwardly stood in the doorway.

I didn't question why Sherlock had called me by my middle name. I certainly didn't want this woman with the power of my first name and I surmised that neither did he.

"Your daughter?" She pressed her slim fingers to her neck. "My Sherlock, you've been busy."

I nodded. "You may call me Joss." My lips parted in a smile, although I felt rather forced. John was sending me warning looks.

The beautiful woman laughed. "Oh darling, you're gorgeous."

My smile melted. Was she serious? It frustrated me that I could not read her. I glanced at Sherlock and was relieved to deduce that he couldn't read her either.

"Thank you." I said timidly.

"Irene, you're scaring her. Go away. Aren't you supposed to be dead anyway?" John whined.

"Now, why would I do that? Death is hardly any fun." She pursed her perfect ruby red lips in a perfect little pout. "Besides, I'd like to hear the story behind this... young lady." She eyed me.

Sherlock hissed. "I hardly would like to tell you anything because I still don't know why you're here."

Irene tsked. "Is she adopted?- no, I can see your eyes and cheekbones... good Lord, she really does have a pretty face."

I was still very confused, and happened to be in my pajamas. Self-consciously, I pulled the duvet up to my chest.

"Excuse me," I waved. "Who the hell are you and why are you in my room?"

The woman smiled. "Oh look at you. You're just as smart as he is. How... sexy."

She gracefully shrugged out of her white fur coat, tossing it to Sherlock. Her blouse was see-through and white lace.

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