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

Chapter 75- Long Coats and Backstreets

Millie's POV

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"Millie, it's your turn to get the milk."

I sigh, heavily, and look out at the rain lashing the windows.

"I thought it was Sherlock's turn?"

"Nope- I've marked it down on the calender so he can't get out of it. He's next week."

"Are you sure?" I say, pretending to squint at the calender across the room, "I'm almost certain he's supposed to get it today."

"Stop trying to get out of it. You're as bad as Sherlock."

"I'll get it later."

"Do you really want to go another day with dry cereal and no beverages?"

"I can cope."

"Yeah, well, I can't. Go on. It'll only take ten minutes."

I scowl, feeling petulant, and stand up, unwilling to leave the warmth of 211B. I look around, stretching out my arms behind me-

"Where is Sherlock?"

"God knows. He went out this morning. You were asleep when he left. Said something about meeting Mycroft and Molly. I think it's to do with Emily. I reckon he feels guilty about his outburst, and this is his way of rectifying it- trying to track her down. He can't just call her and apologise like any normal  person," he sighs, pulling a knitted jumper over his head as he talks- "It's bloody freezing today, isn't it? I can't say I envy you."

"Shut up," I say, rolling my eyes and pulling on my shoes. I grab Sherlock's long coat from the doorway as I leave, wondering why he left without it, and put it on- I don't really care how abnormal I look right now, I just want to get this over with.

I close the door behind me, and am half-way down the stairs when I collide with Mrs. Hudson, knocking her armful of laundry to the floor. 

"Oh my, Sherlock, you're going to give me a heart attack someday-" 

She breaks off, blinking at me-

"Millie? Look at you in his coat! It suits you, dear."

I smile, and retrieve the rest of the clothing, handing them back to her. She pats my arm as means of a thankyou, then continues up the stairs, humming 'Bohemian Rhapsody' under her breath.

I open the door, and step out into the rain, frowning and turning up the coat collar as a buffer to the wind. It's oddly quiet. No traffic. No pedestrians. Only me, walking down the rain-slicked pavement, the street lamps flaring yellow in the deceptively dark afternoon.

I've only just turned the corner when I feel a rough hand on my arm, and the cold barrel of a gun to my temple:

"Hi, sweetheart. Come on, let's go somewhere quiet. I need to ask you some questions."

I identify the voice as Moran's. 

"The gun isn't necessary."

"Oh, I know, it's just funny watching your reaction. Plus it always seems to make people more compliant. "

I sigh, and follow him to a backstreet just of the main road. He pulls back his hood, shaking out blonde hair made dark with water. He sniffs, and takes the gun away from my head, polishing it with the cuff of his sleeve:

"Millie, right?"

"Yes."

"Thought so."

"Get to the point," I snap, more irritated than afraid. It's wet, and cold, and I want to be anywhere but here.

"The point is Emily Schott."

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"You're a bundle of sunshine, aren't you? I want to know where she is," he says, casually.

"I don't know. She's been missing since last week."

"And she hasn't been in contact."

"Evidently not."

He stops smiling, and I realise that maybe I should be slightly more careful around Moran, given his ability-

"Why don't you ask your boss? He's your best bet. He seems to know where everyone is, all the time," I say,sarcastically, looking longingly at the road a few metres away. 

"That's the problem, see. My boss isn't...himself at the moment. I can't seem to get the information from him."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, suddenly suspicious.

He shrugs, nonchalantly-

"Well, you don't like Emily, I don't like Emily- I thought I'd make life easier for everyone and take her out of the picture."

I freeze. I've got to play this carefully. If I contradict him, and tell him that he's wrong- that Emily's my friend, regardless of her attempts to strangle me- he won't say anything more, and I won't know what he's planning. I need to keep him talking. That way, I can inform Sherlock and John, and try to get the message through to Emily that she needs to come home, soon. I keep my expression bored and disinterested:

"Why don't you like Emily?"

He looks around, cautiously-

"Ever since they got off again, it's all he's been focusing on. Obsessing, even. It's always: "Emily and Sherlock" and "the game"- that fucking game, I'm sick of it. He's not even interested in the things that he used to like- you know, criminal stuff- he's been ignoring his client list for months. Once she's dead and gone, he'll go back to normal. Well, as normal as he can get. He won't like it- he'll be pissed off for a while, probably send me some death threats, maybe organise some terrorist schemes, but he'll get over it. He never gets that attached to people. That bitch isn't any different. See, that's where you come in. Angry Moriarty means more crimes, right? And that means you and your detective can go back to doing what you like best- solving them. Then we're all happy."

I'm silent for a while as I process this new information.

I've got to tell Sherlock. We need to get in contact with Emily. As soon as possible; she has to be warned about this. I make a mental note of Moran's words, storing them away in my head, so I can quote him exactly.

There's something else, too:

"I see. What do you mean, 'they got off again?'" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Didn't she tell you? It was about a month ago, I think. I knew something had happened; he came back quiet. That's never a good sign. And then he started going on about a cigarette burn on her hand- god, you should have heard him, he was threatening my immediate family at that point- and I realised that they must have hooked up at her place. Anyway, my point is, I need you to tell me if you hear anything, about her location. I won't mention it to boss, if you don't say anything to Sherlock, alright?"

I think it through very carefully, mildly shocked after hearing this alarming news. Moran looks at me, impatient, tapping his gun against his palm. I pretend to look thoughtful, then nod my head.

He smiles, satisfied-

"Good. Nice doing business with you... Molly?"

"Millie."

"Yeah, whatever."

And he pulls up his hood, and pockets the gun, before walking out into the rain.

I need to get back to 221B.

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