‹ Prequel: Deducing Tragedy Part One: See No Evil
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Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies
The Logical Choice
John was in the living room. Sherlock was at Scotland Yard being brilliant as usual. John would have been there with him but he had a date with Mary soon and had come home early to get ready. Ann had not been there. From the looks her team gave him when he asked, she hadn't been in some time. What was that girl doing? He had wondered as he finished buttoning his shirt. What had happened to her?
He walked out of his room quickly, he was running late, but froze in his tracks. That's where he was now, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on Sherlock's chair.
"Don't look so alarmed, John," she sighed still paging through the book in her hands. "I did live here once."
"You didn't," his tone was rough as he watched her. "Hanna did, you're not her."
Her eyes snapped up and locked with his. Slowly she set aside the book and stood up. He wasn't in her usual attire today. The black pants had been traded for a sleek black pencil skirt and her boots were replaced with studded black pumps. Her black tank top was now a deep blue blouse that dipped down to show off her cleavage. Her hair was up in a half ponytail, the rest of her blond locks flowed out around her like a cape. She walked closer, her eyes raking over him in a way that made him uncomfortable. "How philosophical of you," she said, her fingers interlocking as she began to walk in a circle around him. "I didn't know you had it in you to make such an analogy."
"I'm just remembering what you and Sherlock said," he clenched his jaw. "You're not Hanna, you're Ann now."
Her eyes fell to the ground and she stopped walking, "I am," she smiled softly.
"Just tell me one thing," he said turning to face her. "Is there any hope…any at all… that Hanna is still in there?"
Her eyes met his and he saw a wicked gleam reflect in them, "No, Hanna is long gone."
"Why?"
"That's more than one thing Dr. Watson." She smirked.
"Just tell me."
That smirk didn't leave her lips as she made her way over to the fire place, running her fingers across the skull, "I was weak, now I am not. Caring is not an advantage John. It is a target to be used against you; if you care you can be hurt."
"And now you cannot be hurt?"
"I am untouchable," she said in a low, deadly tone before turning her head to look back at him. "Can't you see it John? I am stronger now, I can handle myself. I don't need you or Sherlock to come save me."
"Like you ever let us," he snorted bitterly, "you were always ready to sacrifice yourself at a moment's notice. In the end, we were saving you from you."
She stood up straight, a slight frown gracing her made up face. "You're smarter than you look."
He glared, "right, I'm leaving."
She stopped him, running one hand over his shoulder and slowly making him face her, "why wasn't it you?" she asked as her other hand ran up his arm.
"Me?" he asked raising an eyebrow.
"You're reasonably intelligent," she smirked and he rolled his eyes, "attractive, and brave. You're even kind. Why didn't I fall for you?"
"Excuse me?" he asked in bewilderment, her hands finding his collar and pulling him close.
"You're honest and sweet," she continued, her eyes locking on his lips. "I will never wonder how you feel, you are the safe choice John Watson, the logical choice." She moved to lean in but he stopped her, pushing her back by the shoulders and staring at her in shock.
"What the bloody hell had gotten into you?" he asked holding her back.
She shrugged and walked towards the door. "I wanted to see what you would do," she giggled turning back to face him a few feet away. "I told you before, I'm bored."
"This isn't a game Hanna!" he shouted.
"Of course it is," she said, her face and voice changing from the giggly school girl of a moment ago to the highly trained killer he knew she could be. "It is a game John Watson, and I am winning."
He walked out of his room quickly, he was running late, but froze in his tracks. That's where he was now, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on Sherlock's chair.
"Don't look so alarmed, John," she sighed still paging through the book in her hands. "I did live here once."
"You didn't," his tone was rough as he watched her. "Hanna did, you're not her."
Her eyes snapped up and locked with his. Slowly she set aside the book and stood up. He wasn't in her usual attire today. The black pants had been traded for a sleek black pencil skirt and her boots were replaced with studded black pumps. Her black tank top was now a deep blue blouse that dipped down to show off her cleavage. Her hair was up in a half ponytail, the rest of her blond locks flowed out around her like a cape. She walked closer, her eyes raking over him in a way that made him uncomfortable. "How philosophical of you," she said, her fingers interlocking as she began to walk in a circle around him. "I didn't know you had it in you to make such an analogy."
"I'm just remembering what you and Sherlock said," he clenched his jaw. "You're not Hanna, you're Ann now."
Her eyes fell to the ground and she stopped walking, "I am," she smiled softly.
"Just tell me one thing," he said turning to face her. "Is there any hope…any at all… that Hanna is still in there?"
Her eyes met his and he saw a wicked gleam reflect in them, "No, Hanna is long gone."
"Why?"
"That's more than one thing Dr. Watson." She smirked.
"Just tell me."
That smirk didn't leave her lips as she made her way over to the fire place, running her fingers across the skull, "I was weak, now I am not. Caring is not an advantage John. It is a target to be used against you; if you care you can be hurt."
"And now you cannot be hurt?"
"I am untouchable," she said in a low, deadly tone before turning her head to look back at him. "Can't you see it John? I am stronger now, I can handle myself. I don't need you or Sherlock to come save me."
"Like you ever let us," he snorted bitterly, "you were always ready to sacrifice yourself at a moment's notice. In the end, we were saving you from you."
She stood up straight, a slight frown gracing her made up face. "You're smarter than you look."
He glared, "right, I'm leaving."
She stopped him, running one hand over his shoulder and slowly making him face her, "why wasn't it you?" she asked as her other hand ran up his arm.
"Me?" he asked raising an eyebrow.
"You're reasonably intelligent," she smirked and he rolled his eyes, "attractive, and brave. You're even kind. Why didn't I fall for you?"
"Excuse me?" he asked in bewilderment, her hands finding his collar and pulling him close.
"You're honest and sweet," she continued, her eyes locking on his lips. "I will never wonder how you feel, you are the safe choice John Watson, the logical choice." She moved to lean in but he stopped her, pushing her back by the shoulders and staring at her in shock.
"What the bloody hell had gotten into you?" he asked holding her back.
She shrugged and walked towards the door. "I wanted to see what you would do," she giggled turning back to face him a few feet away. "I told you before, I'm bored."
"This isn't a game Hanna!" he shouted.
"Of course it is," she said, her face and voice changing from the giggly school girl of a moment ago to the highly trained killer he knew she could be. "It is a game John Watson, and I am winning."