I glanced in the mirror. With my black hair back in a bun and a simple white blouse and grey skirt, I looked much like the part I would be playing today.

A reporter. That was the story I had given to the man at the information desk. I had gotten Janine's number and address and now I just had to do some acting. Simple right?

Sure it would be, if Sherlock hadn't caught me.

I had already called the woman to set up a place to meet, I was headed to the coffee shop we were rendezvousing at ... But just as I made it to the door, Sherlock called out to me.

"Keyland!" He exclaimed.

Damn, why does he always show up when I need him to not show up?

"Hey Billy." I smirked. 

Sherlock shot me an uncomfortable look.

"Really?" He sighed. 
I shrugged.

He looked me over, interested.

"Why are you dressed up as a reporter?" He asked curiously.

"It's for a case." I stated. 

"Care to share?" Sherlock smiled. 

I got right up in front of him, and held his gaze. My lips almost touching his.

"I'll tell you..." I say huskily, gazing into his eyes.   "When I've solved it." I smiled.

Sherlock blinked.

I walked out the door backwards, closing it behind me, and quickly hailed a cab. I had to get out of here before Sherlock's shock wore off.

I don't know how I managed that... I thought to myself, as The cabbie took me to the coffee place.

And then there she was.

She sat with regal grace at the table looking about for me. She had flowing auburn hair and eyes of dark chocolate brown. And she looked a bit annoyed, I hadn't told her much on the phone... 

I felt as though there was a dragon in my stomach writhing around and trying to get out... I wanted to kill her. I stood at the door of the coffee shop with my hands clenched into fists.

All the training my father taught me rushed back to me at that instant. I could take out everyone in here in a matter of seconds.

...But I didn't...

Thankfully.

Because my mind was kind enough to bring back a fragment of another memory....

Just Moriarty's voice. 

"Oh Angel, You are so much like your father."

That snapped me back to reality.

Her eyes locked with mine and she smiled at me questioningly revealing a row of perfect teeth. I took an emotional breath, smoothed my skirt then walked purposefully toward her.

"Janine Hawkins?" I ask professionally. Shaking her hand and laying aside all... Okay most... thoughts of murder.

"Yeah and you are?" She asked impatiently. 

"Arabella Jones, reporter for the Sun.." I smiled.

"You said you needed information for another story? I haven't seen Sherlock Holmes in quite a few years..." She admitted confusedly. 

"Yes. But I am writing an expose, on how Geniuses have things so often overlooked, because of their intelligence..." I lie through my teeth. 

"I see." She replied looking at me skeptically. " I've already told you people what I know... All I know."

"Yes but you haven't told me." I say impatiently. 

She raises an eyebrow at me while I think up a plausible lie.

I sigh heavily. "Okay so I'm trying to leave the sun and be a freelancer...My boss... well let's just say he has been less than professional, and I needed to get out. I'm planning to publish an expose on how the men in charge get away with anything.... I really needed to have one more person in here but I understand if you don't want to tell me..." I ramble. 

"If you don't really work with the Sun, why did the information desk call me?" She asks raising her perfect eyebrow. 

"Oh I still have ... friends in the Sun." I smile. 

"I see..." She says with a small smile... "Okay if you want information on Sherlock Holmes... I'll spill."

I smile and reach into my bag, for a recorder.

"Wait..." She says cautiously. "Miss Jones did you say?"

"Yes." I reply.

"Funny Sherlock told me that name..." She replied, in a tone that made it clear that it was not funny at all... She almost sounded... jealous. 

My eyes widen and I try to mask my shock.

"Arabella isn't your real name is it?" She glared. 

"It's what it says on my birth certificate."

"But you go by Keyland don't you..." She replies with a toxic smile.

"H-How did you?" I stammered. 

"Maybe something did happen between me and Sherlock... but If you want to know for sure, ask him yourself." She states resolutely, gathering her things...

"I'd say it was a pleasure but it hasn't been." She tosses over her shoulder, as she saunters out of the room.

Damn it!

Well there is no way on earth that I could ask Sherlock...

Maybe John would know...