Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

at long last! the Ann/Hanna and Sherlock reunion! you guys wanted it so here it is! though I don't think this is what you pictured :P

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I woke up in a very bad mood. Next to me Ben laid on top of the comforters, staring at the ceiling. “Benjamin!” I shouted sitting upright in the bed. “What did you do?!”

“The same thing you were about to do,” he shrugged, not shifting his gaze at all. “But with some tact.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growled throwing the blankets from me and standing up.

“Ann you are supposed to be dead,” he said finally looking at me. “Not only that but you are a completely different girl from the one they knew, so different that your own sister didn’t recognize you. They needed a moment to brace themselves. I gave them that.”

“And just how the hell did you manage to drug me might I ask?”

He sighed, standing up, “Tate had a second gun on the roof last night. When you ran back to the van he shot you with a middle sedative through a needle so thin you wouldn’t even feel it. Scared Jordan half to death when you suddenly passed out.”

“You and Tate…” I trailed off turning away from him. “Of course… you and Tate.”

“Ann?”

“It’s nothing,” I muttered turning back to him. “Sherlock and John, did they understand the consequences of not complying?”

He rolled his eyes, “I explained it very clearly if that’s what you’re asking. Whether or not they listen is a whole other story. You know them; they don’t just let things like this go.”

“They care too much,” I said rubbing my eyes.

“John is especially adamant about being brought on,” He said walking up to me. “What happened at the vigil really shook him.”

“John is an ever bleeding heart,” I mumbled as he wrapped his arms around me. “Did Jordan go over the footage?”

“Yes,” he nodded tucking his face into the crook of my neck. “The girl got a call and left the vigil during John’s speech. There are no clear images of the pilots face. It’s like he knew where to turn to hide.”

“Another dead end,” I growled stepping away from him. “Damn it!”

He sighed, sitting down on the side of the bed. “The note is being translated by Eva now, Jeremy is helping-“

“Jeremy?” I asked raising an eyebrow.

“It’s in Russian and uses a few slang terms that Eva is unfamiliar with.” He shrugged. “They said they’d text when it was done but you know how those two work together.”

“Right…” I trailed off, running my thumb over my lip. “I have about an hour before Mycroft calls demanding to know how things are going.”

“What will you tell him?”

“Don’t care,” I sighed walking towards the door. “I'm popping out for a bit, don’t wait up.”

“Ann,” he said with a knowing tone. “Let them be, you don’t need to go shaking their world more than it already has.”

I turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “You seem to be under the impression that I care how they take it. I don’t, I'm bored and Sherlock has always provided a great source of entertainment. When the translation is done text me, till then- piss off.”

~

John work to the smell of bacon flooding the flat. Sherlock wasn’t one for cooking and Mrs. Hudson would have waited till they were awake to offer them food. Mary was at home sleeping off the trauma she experienced last night.

If he was being honest he knew who it was, he’d known the moment he woke up. He ran through the list praying there was another option. It couldn’t be Hanna, please don’t let it be Hanna, he prayed as he walked down the hall and entered the kitchen.

At the stove a girl stood. She was a couple of inches shorter than him though she was given extra height from the frankly dangerous looking heals she wore. She was clad in black, black pants, black shirt and boots, she even had on black gloves, he noted as she flipped the bacon. Her long hair was a bright sliver blond and was pulled up in to a high ponytail. The ends were a dull cooper color and he sighed heavily.

“Good morning John,” She said glancing over her shoulder. Her blue eyes covered in heavy eyeliner as she appraised him. “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” he said sitting down at the table, slowly. “I'm beginning to think the flat is haunted. The dead keep coming back.”

“It seems they tend to do that around you,” she said with a low chuckle.

“Does Sherlock know you’re here?”

“He is aware,” she nodded. “He’s currently dressing. I guess he wants to look his best for an old love.”

“He still doesn’t remem-“

“Part of him does,” she cut him off as she served up the food. “Part of him remembers. He’s just in denial now. Pushing off what cannot be avoided. You know how he is.”

“I do,” he nodded slowly as she set a plate in front of him. Two eggs, bacon and toast; just like Hanna use to serve.

“so, who was the woman?” she asked taking her usual seat at the end of the table, pulling her leg up to rest her arm as she lazily took a bite of toast.

“Woman?”

“The one you were with at the vigil?” she asked. “You looked very close.”

“Oh,” John nodded, taking a bite of the eggs. “Yes, that’s Mary-“

“Did you say Mary?” she asked suddenly, her head snapping up as her eyes got wide.

He frowned, “…yes? Why?”

She looked down, regaining her composure, “nothing- it’s nothing. Sherlock, why don’t you stop lurking about and come join us?”

John looked up just in time to see his eccentric flat mate enter the kitchen. His eyes were glued to the girl at the table, but she paid almost no mind to him as she continued to eat.

"I see the super hearing is still intact," John muttered finishing his eggs. "Thought that would have gone when you got your sight back."

"Your senses are as sharp as you train them to be," She said, not looking up from her plate. "But hearing aside I saw him lingering in the hall way through the reflection off the window."

John laughed and she looked up, "something you want to share with the class?”

Her slightly annoyed and borderline dangerous tone sobered his chuckle as he glanced from her to the tall man behind her. "Well what you just said reminded me an awful lot of a certain Consulting Detective."

“We are nothing alike,” they spoke in sync and John raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, completely different,” he nodded, the sarcastic tone in his voice making Ann twitch.

“John, why are you eating that?” Sherlock questioned walking around to the empty side of the table. “For all we know she’s poisoned us-”

“If I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t use poison,” she rolled her eyes as she reached for a strip of bacon, “Too many variables. No, your food is safe Sherlock.”

“Then how would you do it?” he asked still not sitting down. She did nothing for a moment, just a girl eating breakfast, and then she moved. Quick as lighting so all John saw was a blur and next thing he knew she had Sherlock with his back to the wall. Ann, herself, was standing flush up against him with her right leg up above his shoulder and one ridiculously high heel embedded in the dry wall next to his head.

“Quickly,” she said their faces less than a foot apart, “so all the variables are in my hands.”

“A clean kill,” he said not taking his eyes off hers.

She smirked, “my boot will get a little dirty.”

“Obviously.”

“Remind you of anything?” she asked with a suggestive wag of her eyebrow. “Being pin down and helpless beneath me?”

“Only that it didn’t last,” he said moving suddenly. Grabbing her leg and flipping her over so she was bent over the table while his other hand reached for hers and pinned it behind her back. “Then again you liked fighting for dominance.”

She laughed; flipping her hair back to look at John who was still in his chair watching with wide eyes. “I told you he remembered.”

Sherlock let her up, “of course I remember. You were always there, in the back of my mind clawing your way forward. But what I remember is only a shadow of what happened; the basic outline of a drawing.”

“How sweet,” she smirked hopping up on the table and swinging her legs like a child. “You couldn’t forget me.”

“And yet I find myself wishing I could,” he growled.

“You don’t want to forget, Sherlock,” she smiled, reaching forward to grab the waist band of his slacks and pull him to her. “I'm your angle, your lullaby, remember? You made me a promise.”

“I made Hanna Hooper a promise,” he corrected, gently tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “You are Ann Arsvitae, I promised you nothing.” And then he spun out of her grasp and walked towards the living room.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “Hanna Hooper was a helpless child.” She said stopping him short. “She couldn’t even save her friend from a measly fire trap. I could, I could have saved them all and killed Mathers before a single bomb went off.”

“It doesn’t matter who you could have saved or who she didn’t,” he said in a bored tone. “You and she are very different creatures: the real Jekyll and Hyde. And just between us, I don’t particularly care for Hyde.”

“See unfortunately for you, Hyde doesn’t care very much if you like him,” she shrugged, standing up and making her way back over to the Detective. “Also unfortunate for you, Hyde is bored. Hyde needs to be entertained.”

“You have the biggest case of the century in your lap,” Sherlock began with narrow eyes. “And you’re bored?”

She shrugged, her lips pressed into a hard-line, “isn’t it sad?” and then she turned and walked out the door.