Consulting Daughter (BBC Sherlock)

Sexy

Kyna's POV:

When I woke up, I was lying face down on my bed with my laptop humming underneath me. A nice puddle of spit had collected on the keyboard and I hastily wiped my mouth, shaking my hair out of my eyes and blinking blearily at the glowing screen. A blank Google page was still running and I groaned, remembering the previous night's search.

"Kyna, breakfast!" Molly called. I slid up to my knees and yawned until my ears stopped ringing. Something vibrated against my leg. For a staggering moment, I was solely concentrating on not slipping back into slumber. My hands fluttered around desperately, fumbling for my phone, which was the source of the vibration.

It was a text.

23rd East Street, London.

Come when convenient.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. I didn't bother to reply. I knew I would get no answer. My mind was racing as I pulled on my clothes and headed to the kitchen.

"How do you like your eggs?" Molly asked, her hands busy at the frying pan.

I shrugged. "You're fixing them for dad anyway."

Her cheeks suddenly looked pinker.

"How do you know?"

"You're not denying it."

"She certainly deduced you." Sherlock input, looking up from his coffee cup.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Come immediately.

Bored and waiting.

-Sexy

I frowned.

"I have to go." I told my family.

"Wait, what?" Molly turned around. John set his newspaper down. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Um... I have... school." I said the first thing that came to my mind. Sometimes I remembered that I was still just a 16 year old girl, who had the same trouble lying to her parents as did any other teenager. Just because I was a child genius didn't mean I was able to come up with something feasible on the spot.

John expression would have been comical if I had cared.

"You don't go to school," He reminded me.

"Yes I do," I argued, digging a hole. There was no going back now.

John frowned. "No you-"

"I'll be back later. Bye!" One thing I was good at: quick exits.

"Kyna!" Molly started to protest, but I had grabbed my coat and was already out the door.

~~~~~

The address I was given was dominated by an abandoned parking lot. My steps echoed as I trudged across it.

"Hello?" I called, turning around.

"Hi!"

I whirled around. The man standing before me had close-cropped hair and a rounded face. His mouth was pressed into a smile and his hands were held behind his back casually.

"Kyna, Kyna, Kyna." He tutted. "When they said you were beautiful, I had no idea that this is what they meant." He chewed his gum and smirked.

"Who are you?" I asked. Something was trickling past my nerves, igniting memories in my mind. Familiarity was leaving chills down my arms.

"Oh, poor darling." He pouted comically. "You really have no clue." The way he said that gave me chills. I felt like I should know him. His identity was right on the tip of my tongue. My eyes flitted over his person in an attempt to gain a name.

Left handed. Immaculately dressed. Unarmed and at ease. His position concluded that he had plenty of confidence and his eyes shimmered darkly.

Frustration.

"Enlighten me." I ordered, tired of playing this game.

The man chuckled. He walked towards me slowly, dramatically, adding a little hop in his step like he was the happiest man alive.

"I'm a friend of your father's."

"What friend?"

"Not important!" He sang. His entire demeanor was so theatrical and care-free. "But I would like for you listen to me."

I was silent, so he continued.

"That boy you associate with; Peter Wiggins."

"What of him?"

"You may want to check where his loyalty lies." His smile remained glued to his face, but I could feel his eyes threatening me. "There are a great deal of people who will do anything for money. Consider that."

"Tell me who you are." I demanded.

His laughter echoed across the empty lot. "You are so FUN! It's almost like a game, isn't it? You're just a confused sixteen year old girl who wandered into the wrong shopping center."

"You are wrong." My bottom lip trembled.

"If you really want to get anywhere with that case you're working on, you may want to watch the dead." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, like he couldn't believe I was so ignorant.

"What does that mean?" I asked, perturbed by his warning.

He ignored my question, his eyes glittering dangerously. I had barely noticed that as we had been talking, he had been getting closer. I could feel his breath on my cheek. If we were any closer, our noses would be touching.

"One more thing, before I take my leave." He bent down so his lips grazed my jawline. He pressed his plump mouth against mine, sloppily.

"Give that to Sherlock, from Jim Moriarty." He laughed again, straightened his coat, and strutted away. A sleek black car swerved into the lot and he gracefully climbed in, winking at me before the car sped off.