The Blonde


I'm going to take a minute to answer a question a few guests have posted. Feel free to skip ahead to the story if you like...otherwise...

About The Doctor...he won't be appearing in this part of the story, but I am working on a second part or second book, if you will, and he's in that one along with Amy and Rory. Not sure what I'm calling it yet since I've only written the first chapter, but I'll let you all know when this is close to wrapping up. Now, on to the story. :)

"Come on, Molly," Rose called as she began to follow John and Sherlock out of the room.

She heard the other woman fall into step behind her as she trailed the boys down the hall. She tried to push aside thoughts about what had taken place between her and Sherlock…and what almost happened. A woman was dead. Attacked by some kind of animal. As the Doctor would say, perspective, but she found her mind returning to the intensity in his eyes as he leaned down…She shook herself.

No, they were friends, that's all. She didn't need complications. Not with everything else that was going on. She needed to keep Moriarty focused on her to keep Sherlock's friends safe and she couldn't do that if she allowed her feelings for the detective to change. Besides, he didn't know her past. The things she'd done. No, a relationship was out of the question.

She stepped into the lab and crossed the room. Sherlock was reading the analysis. Molly stopped next to her, also waiting on the findings.

"A wolf? Sherlock asked.

He pulled out his phone and dialed, but Rose's mind was already spinning. A wolf? It couldn't have anything to do with him…could it? A young girl lured off the path by a hungry wolf. A coincidence? She might've believed that before, but one of the things she learned while traveling with the Doctor was that there really weren't any coincidences. It was him. Had to be.

"Where was the body located?" Sherlock asked.

Did he have her killed to send Rose a message? If so, what was the message? There had to be something about the woman. Something…and then she remembered the messages. The ones he sent her while she was out with John.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

Rose glanced at him thinking he was talking to whoever he was on the phone with, but she'd been so focused on trying to work out if the woman's death had anything to do with her that she hadn't noticed when he hung up and pocketed his mobile.

"Sorry?" she asked.

He stepped toward her.

"There's something you haven't told me."

There was, but she didn't think it had anything to do with the dead woman. At least, not until now. She pulled her phone out, brought up the messages, and handed it to him. He read through the texts. She didn't have to look at them to remember what they said.

I've replaced your blouse.

About a minute later.

Hung it in the closet next to your new coat.

A few seconds later.

I've made sure it won't happen again.

They were all sent from a blocked number, but she knew who it was. The coat reference pretty much gave him away, but Sherlock wouldn't understand that, which meant she'd have to explain it to them. She knew from her conversation with John that he wasn't going to be very happy she'd kept it from them, but when she rescued Mycroft she knew she'd made herself a target.

"Who are they from?" Sherlock asked.

"Moriarty," she revealed.

"What?" John asked, leaning over to reread the texts he'd already read over Sherlock's shoulder. "What does he mean, he replaced your blouse?"

"This morning I went to a little shop around the corner to grab a bite, but one of the servers bumped into me and spilled coffee on my shirt. That's where I was coming back from when you told me you put the kettle on and offered me a cuppa," she explained.

"That's why you said you had to change," John deduced.

"He's been in your flat?" Sherlock asked.

There was an edge to his voice. One she hadn't heard from him before and it reminded her of the Doctor…the dangerous side of him.

"Yes," she said, trying to think of a way to alleviate that murderous look in his eyes.

"How does he know your coat's new?" John asked.

She could've played it off by saying everything in her flat was new, but she wouldn't lie to them.

"He left it for me."

Sherlock's brows drew together.

"When?" he asked with that same edge to his voice.

"Last night when I went down to my flat after…everything…it was there."

She decided not to mention that it was lying on her bed or that Moriarty or someone who worked for him made her bed after putting it together.

"Leave," Sherlock said, glancing from John to Molly.

"Sherlock, I-" John began, giving Rose a worried look.


The anger in his voice sent John and Molly scurrying for the door. Rose watched them feeling her heart drop. She'd never seen him like this, but…she took a deep breath and pushed the feeling aside…she'd dealt with the Doctor when he was angry enough to destroy millions of Daleks. She wasn't about to let some consulting detective, friend or not, intimidate her. Yes, she had kept things from him, but it was to protect him and his friends. As soon as the door closed he focused his attention on her.

"How many times?" he insisted.

"Sorry?" she asked, taken back by his question.

He closed his eyes for a moment and she could tell he was trying to gain control of himself.

"How many times has he been in your flat?"


"And you didn't say anything?"

"I can take care of myself," she insisted.

She hadn't been the girl who ran to someone for help every time something dangerous cropped up in her life in a long time. Yes, she asked for help when she needed it, but there wasn't anything he could do about Moriarty getting into her flat. At least, nothing beyond camping out on her couch or insisting on her staying upstairs, neither of which was going to happen. She wouldn't play the victim. That part of her life ended the first time she was tapped on Pete's world and she wasn't about to go down that road again.

"You're being stupid!"

"Why? Because I didn't run to you for help so you could play the hero and swoop in to save me!"

"I don't play the hero, Rose!"

She registered that he called her by her first name and if she hadn't been so upset with him it would've been enough to silence her, but he was being a complete tosser.

"You're doing a piss poor job of not playing the hero!"

He grabbed her arm, glaring at her.

"I'm not going to save you!"

She glared back, defiantly.

"Who the hell asked you to?"

The door opened. She pulled her arm out of Sherlock's grip and turned around to find John standing in the doorway.

"Lestrade wants to know if you're still meeting him at the crime scene?" he asked, glancing between Rose and Sherlock, quizzically.

"Tell him we're on our way," Sherlock replied, reaching for his coat. He trained his eyes on her. "And I'll expect to see you at your flat in an hour."

"At my flat?" she snapped, still upset that he was being such a prat.

He didn't reply. Instead he walked across the room while slipping into his coat and in the next moment he was out the door. He was a complete arse! Self serving, pompous…Molly poked her head in the room.

"All right?" she asked.

"Yeah," she replied, giving the pathologist a smile.

"He doesn't mean to be like that."

"I think he means to be exactly the way he is."

"I'm not sure how much John told you about what he's been through."

Rose knew the story. Moriarty targeting Sherlock, going after his friends, forcing him to jump of a building, Sherlock faking his death so his friends would live and he could go after the people Moriarty hired. She was pretty sure he'd been a pompous arse long before that.

"He told me about everything." She gave the pathologist another smile. She liked Molly and she hated seeing her treated badly, especially by someone who was supposed to be her friend. "You shouldn't let him treat you like that."

"He doesn't mean to."

"He's never going to learn if you don't put your foot down."

"Oh, I don't know."

"He's your friend, yeah?"


"But you're his friend too and I know you care about him."

She was talking about something a bit more than friendship. She could see the way Molly cared about him. It was the same look she'd seen in Sarah Jane's eyes.

"We're friends."

"Then as his friend when his mouth overloads his arse you've got to tell him because that's what friends do."

She could tell that Molly wasn't entirely sure about doing that, but she was smiling so that was something.

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)

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