No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Goodbye, Celestia

James Welsh. The one man who she thought she could trust back home. The one who had taken her under his wing and taught her the ropes of law. It wasn't the stalker she met that day; James was too smart for that apparently. But why? That was the question that loomed over her as his shadow creeped closer. Why would he do this? Money? Power? Celeste didn't want to think any farther than that. She focused all her energy on pushing herself up into a crouch, head down. She took a deep, silent breath and forced an indifferent look onto her face before looking up.

Celestia nearly gasped in surprise as she raised her head to find her face inches from his, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing her recoil from him in fear. She met his gaze head on, forcing a small eye roll as his murky brown eyes studied her closely. Finally he took a step back; his hand coming to grasp a small hand gun that was pushed into the waistband of his black pants. He was in formal wear, but the top few buttons of his light blue shirt were undone and his coat was nowhere to be seen. His light brown hair was hung over his ears and Celeste noticed how young he really was, no more than thirty and yet he had had one of the most prominent and successful businesses in Sydney...

She was pulled back into focus by the sound of the safety being switched off. He held it tightly, nonchalantly aiming at her crouched figure. "So, shall I do this quickly or shall we have a little fun?" he asked lightly as if he were speaking to himself. He chuckled softly and crouched behind her, the gun's barrel biting into her temple. She bit her lip as his warm breath tickled her ear, his head touching hers. "You want to know, don't you?" he whispered with mock sympathy. "You want to know why an innocent face who never did a thing wrong would be shown such wrath from the only person who would even consider to call her a friend?" he teased, his lips coming to brush across her cheek. "You were always so lovely, so beautifully fierce." He held the last word out, hissing out the end like a serpent ready to devour its prey. "But with a touch of eccentricity that no one dared to touch. So perfect yet so ignored," he cooed

"What do you want?" she demanded, her words cold as ice as she looked forward, refusing to look at him.

"I may be reconsidering my plan," he muttered, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him. Leaning in he kissed her brashly, her chin gripped in his hand like a vise. Her eyes flew open and she struggled in his strong grip. He smelled of too much cologne, the scent sickeningly sweet and rolling Celeste's stomach.

She gasped as he pulled away, her jaw aching from his hold.

He smirked then looked into her grey eyes, which were ablaze with hidden emotion. "Hmm, nah. On second thought, I believe I'll just stick with my original plan," he said carelessly. "Too spirited." His face twisted in disgust as he backed up, his gun that had been lowered now brought back up. He only paused to whip a knife out of his boots that were hidden under his long pant legs. He held the blade up and it glinted in the little light that filtered down from the torches above.

Screaming would do her no good; her only hope was Sherlock and John. He held the long knife up to her neck and seemed to think a moment. "You know Ms. Firethorne, humanity doesn't have room for perfection, and unfortunately you happen to be too close to that line for my comfort. No one deserves a perfect life. You don't deserve it anymore then I do, and yet you sit in your perfect little universe and waste the day away dreaming about being somewhere else." His voice took on an edge and his words were each a flaming tongue of fire, biting at her cold skin. "Some of us actually have to try; aspire. I know those must be foreign concepts to someone who looks as though they could walk down the runway at 2 o'clock every morning. You know, I'm starting to think I would kill you even if there was nothing to gain!"

"You're mad," she growled.

"In both senses," he confirmed, before sending his blade across her neck, carving jagged letters into the pale skin. Celestia couldn't help but cry out as blood blossomed over her throat and sent crimson stains trailing down onto her grey shirt.

"You deserved a flaw." He smiled that eerie grin again, wiping the blade clean on her hair. "Nobody should be perfect, princess. Consider me a hero, putting people like you where they rightfully belong. Except with you, I get benefits." His eyes lit up as he grabbed the knot her hair had been pulled into and yanked her up with him. "You're more useful to me dead."

Keep him talking. Sherlock will be here; you just have to keep James distracted.

The thoughts raced through her throbbing head as she fought to keep the panic that was growing in her gut from overtaking her. "What could you possibly gain? My father will have half of Australia after you as soon as he finds I'm missing," she grunted, wincing as he yanked her hair back again.

"Oh, Celestia, I thought you were smart, my dear! Your dear old dad will give me anything I want. I claim to have you; he finds out you're really missing, I demand a ransom, an immunity, blah blah blah, I secure my safety and a tidy little fortune, and voila! you've been dead the entire time! And then I can go on and fulfill my destiny to rid the world of those that humanity so kindly overlooked when imperfections were given out." His eyes grew in excitement as he explained what was going on, and Celestia prayed a silent prayer that Sherlock would arrive before it was too late.

He jammed the gun behind her head once more, holding it to the back of her neck as he released his hold on her hair. She still stood, hardly able to keep her balance, but nonetheless straight and tall.

"Ah, I see you want to leave the world with dignity too, huh?" He kicked the back of her knees, sending her to the floor. He loomed over her and the cold barrel bit into her skin once more. "So this is it, princess, any last words before you leave the world without a scrap of decency?"

A deep voice came from above, "I could ask the same of you."