The Blonde

Little Red

Rose stepped into her flat and closed the door. She was glad Sherlock waylaid John when, pillow in hand, he attempted to follow her downstairs. After rescuing Mycroft it was obvious she could take care of herself. John, of course, tried to argue the point, but in the end Sherlock won, as he always did. She smiled, well, almost always.

She glanced at her bedroom door, splintered wood, broken door handle. She laughed. The boys would have some work to do tomorrow.

She yawned. It was late. Nearly midnight. Mycroft was gone, having called a car to pick him up, but not before getting into a row with Sherlock…a posh row, which had more to do with barbed comebacks than yelling. She laughed again. Family. When it came down to it they were all alike, posh or not, there was always one who thought they knew best and didn't hold back voicing their opinions. In this case it was Mycroft. Ever the older brother, trying to keep his younger brother in line. All these different worlds and not one of them gets it right. Not her words, but they were just as true here as they had been with the Doctor uttered them in the Tyler mansion.

She turned off the lights and then stepped into her room and stopped. The bed she hadn't gotten around to had been put together. Legs screwed into the frame, mattresses on frame resting against the mahogany, sleigh headboard. Sheets, pillows, cases, comforter, all made with the corners tucked in. Sherlock? John? No, after her flight out the window they'd gone looking for her and they hadn't left their flat after they all returned. Someone else had been in her flat.

Lying on her bed was red hooded jacket that appeared to be more cape than jacket. What the hell? Her mobile rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at it. Blocked Number.

"Hello?" she asked, putting the phone to her ear.

"Good evening, Ms. Tyler," Moriarty said in that soft, demented voice. He paused as if expecting her to say something, but she refused to play his game. "You aren't surprised to hear from me."

"No, not really."

"Good. I have heard you should wait until the next day before phoning after a date, but I just couldn't wait that long."

A date? She laughed.

"I'd hardly call that a date."

"Really? Well, what would you consider a date?"

"That's something you'll never find out."

"You'd be surprised what I can find out."

She squeezed her eyes shut in irritation wondering whether or not she should just hang up. She opened her eyes and they fell on the red jacket lying on her bed. He'd gotten into her flat. Had to have happened when she was upstairs. He was playing some sort of game with her and she was being forced to play along whether she wanted to or not.

"I see you made yourself comfortable," she said.

"Sorry?" he asked and she couldn't help smiling at the confusion in his voice.

"When you were in my flat."

She swore she could hear him smiling on the other end. The feeling was unsettling.

"Did you get my present?" he asked.

"Red jacket? Yeah." She glanced at it. "Not really my style."

"Oh, but it is."

"You must be thinking of the other woman you're stalking."

"Oh, Ms. Tyler, you're the only woman in my life."

"Lucky me," she replied, sarcastically.

Again she felt the urge to hang up, but she knew he'd just call back and if she didn't answer…well, he'd already gotten into her flat once.

"Do you like stories?" he asked.


"Yes. I love stories. Fairytales. They're so…interesting. Don't you think?"

"What? Like Cinderella?"

"Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood."

She glanced at the jacket and laughed.

"You think I'm Little Red Riding Hood?"

Then she froze as she remembered the name of the villain in that story.

"Oh, but you are. Innocent girl coaxed off the path by a hungry wolf, but your wolf didn't gobble you up did he? No, he changed you."

What the hell was he talking about? He couldn't know. Not really. There was no way…He was fishing again. Had to be. He said he knew she'd killed people. He'd seen it in her eyes. He must be trying to figure out how she became that way. Everyone starts out innocent.

"If I'm little red riding hood then who's the big bad wolf?" she asked, trying play it off.

"You tell me."

"I don't believe in fairytales. Not anymore."

"I'll soon change that. Did you look in the pocket?"

"What pocket?"

"Of the jacket I bought you."

She glanced at the jacket lying on her bed.

"Go on," he coaxed.

She walked over to the end of her bed and reached into the pocket. Her fingers closed around a small cylinder. She pulled it out. Lipstick? She opened it. Red, same shade as the jacket.

"Not really my color."

"No? Why don't you put some on?"

"I think I'll pass."

She replaced the cap.

"I can't tell you if it suits you if don't wear it."

What? She glanced around the room. Could he see her?

"What else did you leave in my flat?"

"Oh, just a few…devices so I could keep an eye on you. I hate to cut this short, but I'm afraid I have to run. I'll see you soon."

He hung up. She tossed her phone and the lipstick on her bed. She pulled out her sonic and began searching the room. There was no way she was going to sleep until she got rid of all the cameras and any bugs he might've left.

Standard Disclaimer.

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