One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Author playing

A/N: introducing a character I created, whether she appears in sci-fi or more realistic stories is yet to be found out but what do you think of her!

She ducked and rolled out d gunfire before pulling out her revolver and flicking her hair back behind her ear.

"Come out with your hands up!" She called, London accent slipping, jeans muddied and converse squeaking in their own drenched soles.

Another gunshot right past her head so she tightens her finger around the trigger. Pulling harder and the gun fired, tilts slightly up at the end from the power behind the billet and there's a scream as the gunman rolls to the floor in agony, clutching his foot.

"I did warn you"

"No you didn't!"

"Ah well, surely sub-consciously you were warned" she decided before slipping the revolver into her back pocket. She then slipped the handcuffs from her coat pocket and clicked them to the mans hands.

Pulling out an old but pristine blackberry phone, she checked the time and called for backup. Soon as the police sirens could be heard she took off at a run down a back alley, feet splashing and shoes squelching.

Coat creaking with water as it chafed against itself on the elbows, what actually happens compared to all those getaway runs in the rain; yeah, there was more undignified squelching than that.

She raced, her heart hammering as she ran down the steps and took out her Oyster card, pressing it eagerly against the scanner and then switching to a quickened stroll at rush hour and mingling with the business men and late runners.

She slipped onto a train and held onto a hand rail and the train pulled off suddenly, each motor starting up individually, the whir of electric personified by the deep winding tunnels.

She got off the train at kings cross and got onto the jubilee line. Past Baker Street, past Wembley Park, and up to Queensbury station. She'd walk the remaining distance to Kingsbury. Let the adrenaline cool, let the rain sing around her as everyone raced home out of the rain.

She pulled out her old iPod shuffle and clicked in the earphones, turned the volume up full so she felt as though the music flowed through her veins and the bass was the beat of her heart.

She skipped a few songs until she landed on what she wanted and then she resumed walking, slipping the iPod into her pocket and allowing her shoulder length hair to drip onto her shoulders.

In a way she wished she had just taken her bike, it was fun to buzz through traffic, exhilarating even. There wasn't the confined feeling of walls and people, just her, the bike, and helmet and the air whipping at her face and hair, her coat blowing outwards no matter how many buttons she did up.

As she walked the rain died down a little to a gentle pitter on the tarmac, a smooth rhythm. She kicked at a puddle in her already drenched converse, watching in slow motion as the droplets flew away and outward, following the curve of her kick, the spray against the back of the leg as the streetlight flickered in the puddles waves and flashed in the waters disturbance.

Now she's alone
Dancing like nobody is home
Free on her own
Not attached and ready to roam

She continued to walk, looking about her she did a 360 on the spot as she walked, her coat twisting around her, the colour of the night sky. The stars not visible from here but she looked up anyway and smiled.

It was the thought that counts.

She only lived a few miles from here. But she had work to attend to first. She needed to meet someone. Not just a random someone. She had a specific person in mind. She walked left down an alley and to the back door of an old tailors shop.

One slow knock then followed by four quick ones. 1. Four slow one quick. 9. 3 quick two slow. 3. One slow four quick. 6.

1936, the invention of the first thinking computer.

The door pulled open onto the latch and a old man peered out. A butler of sorts but with pale skin and dark eyes.

"Mr E!" She exclaimed excitedly and a clap of her hands.

"Shh, hush girl and it's Mr Edwards beyond these walls" he scorned before smiling lightly. "State your name and ID Number"

She smirked to herself and stood to attention with a salute.

"Vania McCloud, no. 4018" she confirmed in a mock posh accent. "At your service....Mystery" she chuckled at the end and revived a frown before the door shut and opened fully once the latch was removed. She was beckoned inside.

Donning her coat off and hanging it on the rack at the door, dropping unceremoniously onto the floor, leaving puddles as she walked.

"To main reception, if you please, miss McCloud" Mr Edwards directed her towards the glass panelled door at the end of the corridor.

"Thankyou Simon" she said with a smile before she knocked on the door and entered silently.