It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

77 - Secrets & Lies

A/N - 20k reads...wow...just WOW - I can't and don't know how to thank you all enough! ❤❤❤

Just so many thanks for your dedication to and love of the story!!! 😄

Perhaps now we are at 20k reads we could do a special lil Q&A? Maybe you'd be interested in hot-seating Elizabeth (& Co?) and asking the character/s some questions (anything from what they fear most to their favourite chocolate)? Or you could ask me a question if you have one?

If you do have any questions, feel free to send me a PM and I'll try and write them up by the end of next weekend!

At the end of the day it's up to you fabulous readers - and if you have better idea to celebrate with then please do share 😄❤

For now though, lots of socially distanced hugs and love 💕💕💕

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"How is she?" Mycroft asked as he saw Elizabeth leave the room.

Then it clicked that something was wrong, and it didn't just click with the elder but with the detective more so as they saw her reddened face and intense need to get away from the room.

"Elizabeth?" Sherlock spoke up, "Elizabeth what's - oomph - "

Without a word, she had cut in between the two brothers (intentionally knocking their shoulders or not would be left a question) as she continued storming away down the hall. The men shared a look with each other and then back down the hall after Elizabeth.

"Go to Rita." Sherlock instructed before hurrying after his other half.

* * * * * * * *

Pushing the glass door open wildly, Elizabeth continued out onto the London pavement, surrounded suddenly by the ebb and flow of a crowd of workers and mothers and fathers and people who simply continued with their daily life. She gulped in a breath of fresh air (well, moderately fresh air, as fresh as London air could be). Bringing a hand to her chest, she kept trying to breathe slowly and muttered:

"Not again...not again..."

Stress was a funny thing, particularly to her since she had chosen Sherlock.

Send her into a high-stress situation, being one where she needed to infiltrate and thieve from some people Moriarty disliked or had ticked off and she would be fine - regardless of the guns and the one-hundred-and-one horrible ways she may die. Send her on one of Mycroft's missions and, provided Sherlock wasn't being inconvenient, she would be fine -perhaps a little panicked if being caught seemed imminent but nothing to the extent of this. Send Moriarty's past enemies or Americans after her and she would be fine.

However...mention her ignorance with Jim, mention her inability to keep herself from stealing, mention lying in a one-off comment that may not have even be aimed at her or mention getting rid of Jim (who no one could deny was a bad person) and the stress would build, would begin whistling like one of those old kettles until it just took that one extra little overthought thought to push her over the edge, hot water bubbling over the top in a short spill of emotional chaos.

The little things truly did get under one's skin.

"Elizabeth!" Sherlock called over the top of the strong river of people, just catching the top of her head near the road.

The thief turned around, remembering where she was and who she had been with. She was about to head over to him, ready to apologise for leaving without a word, ready to explain what had triggered her so when she heard awful skidding behind her. Barely getting a chance to turn around, a black van's side door swung open, and two masked individuals leapt out, the one's hand wrapped around Elizabeth's mouth and torso, who gave a muffled shriek, eyes rounded with shock as she met her gaze with Sherlock who began pushing his way through the stunned crowd.