It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

91 - Removing The Veil

A/N - Honestly, it could have been another week or two before this chapter was finished without the conversation I had with mixxagonal today!

So, I'm dedicating this chapter to this wonderful fellow fanfic author! Thank you so much, my lovely!

Please do check out her Sherlock fanfic 'Perception Of The Mind' - it's hekkin awesome and you will adore her OC Ophelia Smith 😄❤

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On the morning of the sixteenth of March, Elizabeth was up at the crack of dawn, armed with a black bin bag that had been stuffed with her black catsuit and boots. She slunk down the stairs silently and left the flat to chuck the bag in the bins.

If she were to partake in any future heists, then she would ask Cleo for a suit she could change into at the Rob'n'Cat.

As the bin lid slammed shut again, she took a breath. The papers had said the guard had died, killed immediately by a bullet to the head. It wasn't her bullet but it certainly felt like it. She was responsible for his death, even if she didn't pull the trigger herself.

She just had to pretend for a little bit longer, just had to get some more information on the locations they frequented and the places they hid their loot. Just a little more and Elizabeth would reveal all to the detective. She just hoped he would listen and understand and that Mycroft would then see her for what she believed she was - a reformed thief, using her talents for good.

Elizabeth went straight back inside, nimbly hopping and softly landing on the steps as she climbed so as to not wake Mrs Hudson early.

*  *  *  *  *  *

"Morning, dear." Mrs Hudson greeted the thief a little later that day.

Elizabeth was sat on the sofa, newspaper tossed aside after seeing the headline was to do about the murdered guard and had instead found some solitude in a book, unlike the evening prior. She looked up with a smile at the landlady who always emanated a calm and content aura.

"Morning, Mrs Hudson."

"I thought you might like to join me for breakfast at the café downstairs?"

"I'd love to join you. Thank you for the invite." Elizabeth politely accepted, in need of a nicer distraction, "Aren't you and Mr Chatterjee on bad terms though?"

Mrs Hudson laughed, "He's hopped along now. Gone back to his wife in Doncaster, though, I phoned ahead to make sure she wouldn't let him in after a white lie or two about how terrible he had been to me."

Oh, how this woman turned out to be a dark horse every time, Elizabeth thought to herself, amused. The thief hoped she would be like Mrs Hudson when she was older as she placed her book on the coffee table before standing to stretch.

"Shall we pop down then?"

"Yes, come along, dear." She beckoned the thief to follow.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The two ladies had two plates of cooked breakfasts in front of them and were both contentedly munching away with a little bit of small talk in between. They spoke about small things like the state of chaos that Sherlock's flat was constantly in and how Mrs Hudson was considering changing the main hall's wallpaper to something a little brighter and to paint instead.