The Blonde

Questions

John had turned on the telly after Rose left, probably as a way to get back at Sherlock for arguing with him about sleeping on her sofa, but the detective was too lost in thought to care about his flatmate's choice in programming. A murder mystery how redundant. He barely paid attention to the program, other than to note both the writer and the director were complete idiots. Who poisons another person with bleach? If the victim was too stupid to smell the bleach in her coffee then she deserved to die. Idiots!

There were more important matters to think about. Questions that begged answers. Answers he didn't have. Why would a woman he recently met risk her life to save his brother? Did she know Mycroft? No, he didn't think so. At least, the way they interacted seemed more like acquaintances. It didn't make any sense.

Why had Moriarty sent her the message about Mycroft? Well, that was a bit easier to figure out. He wanted to find out if she would come. He wanted it to be her choice. The idea that she'd attracted Moriarty's attention didn't sit well with him, but neither did the fact that it bothered him. Why should it bother him? He'd saved people. Yes. By unraveling mysteries. That's what he did, but he didn't worry over other people. Well, he glanced at his friend sitting on the sofa, he worried about John, but only when his friend was in immediate danger. That was John though, not anyone else.

He thought back to that moment he saw her running down the street hand in hand with his brother. In that moment he'd felt some foreign emotion. Something he never thought he'd feel. Something he never wanted to feel. Something so absurd he refused to name it.

"Idiot!" he snapped.

"Sorry?" John asked, startled by Sherlock's sudden outburst.

"Nothing," he grumbled.

He tried to turn his mind to something else. Anything, but the blonde sleeping in the flat below theirs.

"So, do you think Mycroft was the first?" John asked.

"Of course not, John. I don't even think she knows Mycroft. They acted more like acquaintances."

"She?"

Wait. What the hell was John talking about?

"She who?" John asked again, raising his eyebrows.

"Do I think Mycroft was the first what?" Sherlock asked, ignoring his flatmate's question.

"If Moriarty's going after the people you care about and he took Mycroft-"

"No," Sherlock interrupted.

Moriarty. Of course he was talking about Moriarty. What the devil's wrong with me? Maybe there was a gas leak. Had to be.

"No?"

"He kidnapped Mycroft to test Ms. Tyler. It had nothing to do with me other than Mycroft is my brother."

"He was testing Rose?"

"Yes," he replied thinking how completely obvious it was and wondering how John managed to dress himself in the mornings.

"Why?"

"To see whose side she's on."

"All right, but why? If he was targeting her because she's associating with you then why would he test her?"

Moriarty found her interesting. Sherlock figured that out the moment he realized his nemesis sent her the message. But why?

Sherlock found her interesting because of the mystery. A woman appears in his flat seemingly out of nowhere. He could deduce very little about her. Posh, but from a working class background. She'd lost someone close to her. She worked in the field, not a soldier, but something similar that involved running and danger and fighting. Yes. A fair bit of that.

Moriarty very likely made similar deductions, but the one thing that held the detective's interest, her appearance in his flat, was the one thing his nemesis couldn't know. If he didn't then why was he so interested?

"Sherlock?" John asked, waiting for an answer to his previous question.

"She appeared in our flat, John," Sherlock said.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-"

"Where did she come from?"

"She said-"

"That she had to leave her family. Yes. But why? Something happened that forced her to leave her family, but that still doesn't tell us how she appeared in our flat."

"No," John said, sounding baffled. "You're right. It doesn't."

Sherlock sat up.

"What do we know about her?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else. "Working class background, but her family came into money. Her job involved a fair bit of danger-"

"Danger?" John asked.

"Torchwood, ever heard of it?" Sherlock asked, ignoring his friend's question.

"No, can't say that I have…what do you mean danger?"

"Neither have I. It sounds official. If it has anything to do with the government Mycroft would know."

He pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Getting answers," Sherlock relied.

Ms. Tyler was hiding something and whatever it was had drawn Moriarty's attention. Sherlock was missing something. A piece to her puzzle and he was determined to find out exactly what that piece was.

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