Bouquet of Thorns: Sherlock x fem!reader

Chapter 25 - Lucille

Sherlock had miraculously gotten access to the venue through a favour from one of the bartenders. John and Greg looked like teenagers trying to act tough, while Sherlock somehow flawlessly got into the role instantly. He made sure to flash the gun on his holster while brandishing his sheathed knife strapped to his belt.

Beyond this, the three weren't paid much mind as all eyes were constantly glancing at the meeting room. Eventually, they realise this and sit at a table close by. There was no way to tell what was said, but Sherlock was slowly deducing who each person could be.

"Which one is Thorn?" John examined the room as well, while Greg calmed his nerves with a glass of whiskey he was quick to order from the bar.

"Not sure yet, but Moriarty is right there, meaning he has to be in that room," Sherlock holds his hand up for a waiter, "two more whiskeys," he hands over cash. "We need to blend in,"

"Fine," John nervously tapped at his knee, which caused Sherlock to kick him. "Hey!"

"The more nervous you look, the less of your worries would be being kicked out," he continued to watch the meeting, where multiple people started laughing at a man he recognised as Mateo Castillo.

"Oh, come on, Matty," Lachlan coos at the glaring man. "Have a little fun," he combs his hand through his rich blonde hair.

"Mateo." The man repeats, "It is Mateo Castillo, a name that makes people's blood run cold all over South America!"

"Well, we are in England," Samuel coughs before shrugging, "plus you're not exactly the biggest and the baddest here,"

"Yes, yes, we all know to fear the great Thorn," Lucille rolls her eyes.

"I'm glad some brain cells are working in that head of yours," you tap your head mockingly.

"You bitch," she goes to grab her blade only for Jim to hold his up and your beings raised against her neck. No one else batted an eye, all equally annoyed by her presence.

A little word of warning about Lucille Brockwell: she was spoiled, which isn't hard to tell, but she was the irritating type of reckless.

And by that, you recall the day the criminal underworld nearly crumbled because she had been denied a 40-million-dollar mansion in the Bahamas.

Something about offshore accounts and her attempt to report discrimination to the local authorities who had large files on Rockwell as well as her.

"Not a good idea," you click your tongue, seeing her lower her weapon when Rockwell pulls her back.

"Don't be stupider," he sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. "My apologies, Thorn,"

"You're not responsible for your useless sister, Rockwell," you continue to jab at her ego more and more. You and Jim had decided tonight was the night Lucille Brockwell would pay for nearly bringing down the spiderweb of wealth and crime you and Jim had built from the ground up.

"Says you, skank," she throws insults which did no damage to your pride.

"Aw, is little Miss Spoiled tired of being ignored?" You play with your gun, "sad she's not getting all the attention?"

"You wish," she stomps her heel into the ground, clenching her fists.

"Looking a little frustrated there, sweetheart," you lean back and watch as she tries to hold herself back. "Is it because you're still stuck with last season's shoes?" Despite not knowing if that information was true, it seemed to hit a nerve. Why didn't you just start with that?

"That's it!" She lunges at you, landing a punch right to your face. While it hurt more than you expected it to, you knew it was still the right reaction to get the outcome you needed.