Lestrade stormed out of the interview room in utter frustration. He had spent hours sitting across from the beautiful dark haired woman and had not once managed to get her to look up from the table, never mind get her to answer any of his questions.
"It's impossible." Lestrade groaned, rubbing his face with his hands; the detective never having felt so tired from simply trying to talk to someone.
"I have tried everything. I don't know what to do next." Lestrade complained, as he threw the thin file on the woman down onto the table in front of the Holmes brothers and John.
Normally Mycroft, Sherlock and John would not bother making their way down to New Scotland Yard for what seemed, on face value, like an open and shut murder case; but once the men had heard the alleged killers name, they knew that this would be anything other than simple.
(Y/n) Moriarty had sat in the interview room for hours, just staring at the table in front of her not saying a word, not moving, not even taking a drink of the water that some female officer had brought in for her. It was as if she had completely zoned out of this world, drifting off into her own head just like Sherlock did.
Sherlock picked up the file and perused it, his long fingers flicking through the paper as he looked between it and the woman on the other side of the two way mirror.
"How long has she been back in the country?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, as he looked at the woman's softly tanned skin.
"As far as we can ascertain she has been back about three weeks, but that's this time." Lestrade told Sherlock, all the men now looking at the younger Moriarty.
"This time? How many times has she been in out of the country?" John asked, as he walked up to Sherlock's side so that he could look at the woman better.
"To be honest we don't really know. Moriarty has been able to hide her well for most of her life; but it seems that whenever anyone gets too close, Moriarty sends her away until it's safe to bring her back again. Unfortunately, exact records of her movements are difficult to come by. We have managed to find out that she has an exceptionally high IQ, an IQ, which by all accounts is greater than even that of her brother, but other than that.........." Lestrade said, almost apologetically as he sighed heavily.
"We found her standing over the body of a man called Michael Connor. He was some small time criminal, nothing ever more than a petty thief really, but we do have information that he did work for her brother from time to time. She literally had the smoking gun in her hand when she was arrested." Greg explained, as Sherlock dropped the file back onto the table.
"I want to speak with her." Sherlock said, the other men turning to look at him.
"Do you really think that you are the best one to speak with her? I mean, given the previous interactions with Moriarty.........." John began, really not sure that James' younger sibling would take well to her brothers' nemesis.
"And who else do you suggest speaks with her? Gordon here has proved utterly ineffective when dealing with her, you wouldn't know what to ask, and Mycroft doesn't have an underling here to ask the questions for him. So, I ask again....... who else would you suggest?" Sherlock asked, not waiting for John's answer before he made his way from the room and into the interview room.
Slowly Sherlock pulled out the chair across the table from (Y/n), the woman still not looking up from the table.
"I'm.........." Sherlock began, as he sat down.
"I know exactly who you are, you are William Sherlock Scott Holmes." The young woman said in a lilting Irish accent, her eyes suddenly flying up from the table, her deep green orbs staring into Sherlock's eyes, eyes that seemed to change from blue to green in the bright light.
"And you are (Y/f/n) (Y/m/n) Moriarty, younger sister of James Moriarty." Sherlock replied, annoyed that he was finding it as difficult to read her as it was to read her brother.
"Is that it? Is that all you have? My brother was right, you're not as smart as you think you are, are you?" (Y/n) asked, smiling softly as she continued to stare at the consulting detective.
"I do know that you didn't kill that man. I know that you were left there by your brother to take the blame for the man's death, a scapegoat for more of his crimes." Sherlock told her, furrowing his brows in confusion as (Y/n) began to laugh.
"You are right about one thing, I didn't kill that man, in fact I have never seen him before in my life. I came across the scene by accident, and in a state of shock I picked up the gun, a very foolish thing to do I know......... but there it is. If your detective friend has his forensics people do their job properly, you will find that there will be fingerprints beneath mine on the grip of the gun." (Y/n) said, leaning back in her chair as Sherlock sat up straighter, knowing that it was never a good idea to let his guard down where a Moriarty was concerned.
"But you are quite wrong about everything else, James would never leave me behind, he wouldn't dare." (Y/n) chuckled softly, as she looked Sherlock up and down.
"James has told me all about you, Sherlock. You know that he calls you the virgin, don't you? But he didn't tell me one thing. He didn't tell me that you were quite this handsome." (Y/n) cooed softly, as she leant forward shortening the distance between the pair, a small twinkle in her eyes as she noticed the instant dilation of Sherlocks pupils.
Try as he may, Sherlock had to admit that there was something about the dark haired creature that sat across from him that he found appealing. It wasn't just her mind, a mind that according to Lestrade was greater than even that of her brothers, it was something in her eyes, something in her demeanour, something about the way she held herself with not only an air of confidence, but also a cool calmness, and unlike her brother there was not a hint of psychotic arrogance.
Before Sherlock could say anything in reply, a knock on the door alerted the pair to the fact that Lestrade was cautiously making his way into the room.
"Er....... Sherlock. I need a word with you." Lestrade said with a slight cough, watching as the woman moved back to sit in her chair, a coy smile gracing her lips as she watched the two men leave the room.
"I've just received word from the forensics boy. She has no gunshot residue on her hands, and she's right, there was a set of prints under hers on the gun. They belong to a convicted murderer called Christopher Henderson. He got out of Belmarsh a few month ago after serving a 20 stretch, and from what Donovan and Anderson have been able to find out it seems that our victim did some work for Henderson on the outside; but Connor double crossed him and cheated him out of a large sum of money. Looks like Henderson got his own back, the boys are out looking for him now." Lestrade informed Sherlock, as they re-joined Mycroft and John.
"I'm afraid that we have to let her go. The only thing that she's guilty of is being a Moriarty and being slightly stupid and picking up a murder weapon." Lestrade told the men almost ruefully, as Sherlock continued to watch his Nemesis' sister, knowing that despite this whole thing seeming like a quirk of fate, there was something more behind this chance meeting.
"Well Sherlock. It would appear that I'm free to go." (Y/n) chuckled, as she rose from her seat as Sherlock came back into the interview room, closely followed by Lestrade.
"Such a shame that we had to meet in such an unpleasant way; but I'm sure that next time we cross paths that it will be under more salubrious circumstances." (Y/n) said, as she walked up to the two men, her eyes never leaving Sherlock.
"Oh, and please say goodbye to your brother and the delightful Doctor Watson. I would very much have liked to have met them, but I know that they were both watching from behind the mirror." (Y/n) told the consulting detective, as her hands moved up to straighten his shirt collar.
"Until we meet again my dear Sherlock." And with a kiss to his cheek (Y/n) was gone; but Sherlock had the feeling that this definitely wasn't going to be their only meeting.