Today was going to be a long and tiresome one. 8 hours was enough sleep on a work day but you had to call in sick when Sherlock pestered you to help with the case because it had to do with Art.
Beckoning him to ask another artist or museum attendant he refused saying they were incompetent, beside he apparently wanted to spend more time with you.
Sherlock Holmes, guys, gals and non-binary pals, thinking the ideal brother-sister day out being examining a dead body in an art exhibition.
"The freaks are here," Donovan announced making a few officers snicker.
"The wife is out of town," You mimic her tone. "You really must be more careful, or at least have higher standards,"
Lestrade was soon there to greet, he held a report which you took before Sherlock could; if you had to skip a day of work for this bullshit then it would be under your rules.
"Frank Van Dan, Belgian business man, only meant to be here a week but extended stay for a month, wife, two children back in Brussels,"
You fixed gloves on after passing the folder to your brother. Before you was the man, deceased and deathly pale, his coat lay open and hand clutching what was his hat.
Above, in a pristine frame was Rene Magritte's 'Son of man'. A beautiful piece, self portrait of Magritte. "Go on, use your creepy mind powers," Donovan gestures for you to start but you heard leather shoes click through the museum.
Everyone turned to see Moriarty walk through with a smirk. Lestrade, John, Sherlock and you were the only ones to know what Jim looked like, the others left in the dark.
The men reached for their guns as Donovan and Anderson stepped forward. "Sir, you can't be here,"
"Hired private director for the exhibition, Ma'am," Moriarty held up a fake card, "Andrew Scott, pleasure,"
Donovan visibly was flattered by his manners making Anderson narrow his eyes. You took a hard swallow when Moriarty approached you, every bit of confidence you held over the phone was now gone until Sherlock pushed you back.
Being the annoying youngest sibling meant defying orders. Stepping back out, you held your hand out to Moriarty, "Mr Scott, pleasure to meet you, I'm Y/n Holmes,"
"Ah! The famous Sherlock Holmes has a sister?" Donovan scowls at you two from afar with Anderson beside her.
"That not many know of, I'm aware,"
"What are you doing here?" Aforementioned Holmes growls as Lestrade kept his hand firm on his holster, subtly.
"Bored, that's all," Moriarty leans forward and eyes your brother, "besides, looking through a camera becomes dull after a while,"
"We could arrest your right now," John warns.
"Oh, but you can't and won't if your boyfriend here says no," Moriarty pats Sherlock's shoulder. "Isn't that right Lestrade?"
The detective inspector clenched his jaw and nodded in fear. "You can attend any other crime, but not one where my sister is present,"
"Oh, but she's the real reason I'm here," Moriarty laughs, eyeing you gently with interest that would kill one too many cats. "Go on," he circled around you, leaning into your ear from behind. "What can you tell me?"
"Get away-" Sherlock stopped when Moriarty held a knife to your side from inside his sleeve. Your body tensed at the pressure you deduced to only be one thing.
"Come on, darling, don't be shy~"
One breath in, Moriarty so close your nerves were sent sparking like the fourth of July. "Rene Magritte is a Belgian artists and Son of Man is a self portrait,"
"And what does that have to do with this? With whatever his name is?" Moriarty air nudged the body his hand curling around your waist, knife never leaving.
"Mr Van Dan is Belgian and obviously did something, out of every painting, every exhibit, the killer chose this to set an example, give a message through the painting," you murmur, Moriarty humming approvingly at you. "The use of the green apple over the face is an appropriation of the apple in the garden of Eden to signify sin,"
"Oh, you're getting there," He smelt of gunpowder and expensive cologne, mint lingering every time he spoke. Up close, he was more alluring than when you first saw him in the flat.
"Son of man is a self portrait of sin, of Frank's sin... He stayed for the month because..." you look at the face away elbow on the right. "Because he was having an affair with- Oh!" You run to the evidence box as Anderson rushed to stop you.
"Get away from that! You'll tamper-"
"Suck a dick, Philip," you hum, slotting around the bags and picking out the right one, Van Dan's phone. "Better yet, stop getting Donovan to suck your sad excuse of one,"
"Excuse me?"
"You've been excused," spinning around him, you tap your foot against the ground and unlock the device. "That was much more fun than I remember,"
Moriarty slips up beside Sherlock with a smirk. "Unlike you, she actually looks elegant doing this, you just look like a sad puppy wanting to impress John,"
"I will shoot you," Sherlock snarls, yet happy to watch you having fun.
"God, someone just give me a police badge if I can do your job better than you in a few minutes," patting Donovan on her head you spin to Lestrade with a gleaming smile. "He was cheating, first texted Miss Levina Saturday, 2 nights before he was to leave,"
"But who killed him?"
"It was an ordered hit, by the wife," Anderson sighs out.
"There goes my last brain cell," you massage your temples. "I was saving that to figure out what the hell the ending of WandaVision meant,"
"Enough Marvel, more crime solving, Lixta," Sherlock pats your shoulder.
"Sorry, Will," you mock. "The wife didn't do it, she loves him and would never hurt him, evidently you don't know what love is," this was shot to Anderson who scowls. "The son, has a friend here who found out... which is why there are these texts," you swipe to show the exchange.
"And how do you know he ordered it? All that says he knew of the affair," Donovan says which was actually a fair statement.
You audibly whine, Jim laughing as Sherlock shook his head in his hand. "Fine! Christ, I need a Chiropractor from carrying this entire investigation on my back,"
~~~
Oo-
- Anna ❤️