Trigger warnings throughout, probably the same amount as the show.

:/:

The café was simply decorated, with paintings of various locations hanging on the painted red walls and dark wood floors. Padded chairs were scattered around tables, and at the front of it was a bar table. A small amount of people lounged about with coffee in their hand, chatting the usual nonsense that normal people talked about. By the window sat a woman alone. She was dressed in a black bodycon dress, and leather boots that were laced to the knee. Brunette hair was swirled into a tight bun, with a pin holding it in place, and two emerald green eyes encrusted her lily-white face. Sipping a latte, she gazed out of the window at the passersby. It made her curious to watch them. They were so... ordinary. The door of the café crashed open, with two men forcing a gagged man through it. They were bulshy men, dressed in jeans and ripped t-shirts. Heavy muscles rolled underneath the fabric, and they threw the man into the chair opposite her. He looked around with terrified eyes at where he was, but every scream was held back by the fabric across his mouth. He wore an expensive suit. Armani, the woman guessed. It had a gaping rip across the front, and his face was covered in black bruises. In his pocket was an ID pass, with a globe logo on the top.

"They do a lovely lunch menu, if you want to try it", the woman lulled, smirking. She flicked her hand towards the two men standing behind him; they removed his gag, and then walked to the back of the café.

"Look, I- I don't know what you want..." the man stuttered a reply. "But I haven't done anything wrong".

"Oh, I know, I know", she sighed, reaching over the table and grabbing the pass from his pocket. Flipping it over she read his name aloud. "Joshua".

"Then... what?"

"You work for the government, don't you?" she asked. It was a rhetoric question, of course, because she knew. She knew everything about this man, she knew what she wanted, and she knew just how to procure it. "Mycroft Holmes's secret circle".

"Yes", Joshua replied, reluctantly. "H-How do you know?"

"Oh, I have my sources. You're the people who know". She smiled, knowing she had him around her finger. "Bet you don't know about me, though, do ya?" Laughing, she leaned across the table to hold him by the jaw. "Do you?"

"...No", Joshua answered eventually.

"But you know what I want? Who I want?"

"I have an inkling", he murmured. "But before you start asking, I'm sworn to secrecy. I can't tell you anything".

"Hmm", she hummed, pulling the pin out of her hair, so her locks cascaded down her back in loose curls. Holding the pin to his throat, Joshua gulped quietly when he saw the needle point at the end of it. She edged it closer to his windpipe, but then seemed to change her mind, instead scratching something into the back of his hand. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out, but a yelp escaped. The pin scored deep cuts into his flesh and, when she stepped back to admire her handiwork, Joshua saw that she had written 'Strike', with a tally mark next to it. "Oh, I forgot to dot my I", she lulled under her breath, and pushed the pin into the tissue of his hand, so that he screamed. Further and further she sent the blade, so it spilt crimson blood.

"Ma'am", said one of the men she had hired. She just ignored him, eyes like fire. "Ma'am!"

"What?" she shouted a reply.

"He's going to bleed to death, for God's sake. Is that really what your brother would have wanted?" She looked up for a moment, looking almost hurt at the mention of her sibling, and dropped the pin to the table. Taking a deep breath, she stood away from the table calmly, going towards the hired man.

"You're right", she murmured, noting the thin, gold necklace around his neck. "You're always... right". With a smile quickly crossing her face, she put her hand behind his neck and pulled on the chain. He coughed, and she dragged him backwards, the metal biting into his neck, cutting off his oxygen. She backed him into the corner of the café, just her and him, predator and prey, and hiked him up by the collar. She was stronger than she looked. A tall coat-stand stood by her, and she hung him by the chain from one of the hooks. He kicked and struggled, trying to unhook it from his throat, but not quite making it...

Rummaging through the man's denim jacket he wore, she pulled out a leather wallet and studied what was inside. "Knew it", she murmured, dropping it to the ground. Joshua turned his head as much as he could, and saw a police badge lying next to her. Uncover police. "Knew it all along. And you were right", she said towards the lifeless man. "My brother wouldn't have wanted me to have innocent blood on my hands, he would have wanted traitorous blood... Your blood".

With a terrible smile, she turned towards Joshua, not caring about the dead body hanging from the coat stand. Joshua could hardly breathe; the way she could be so ruthlessly murderous stole the oxygen away from him.

"Does nobody see this?" he asked, in a squeak towards the other people in the café, who were seemingly ignoring the events that were unfolding. His hand hurt like Hell, his head even more. Looking once more towards the deceased policeman, it disgusted him to see his face, blueing around his throat and jaw. His eyes were still open, terrified and pained, and there was a collar of red where he still hung from his chain.

"Isn't it horrible not knowing?" the woman lulled, returning to her latte, which had gone rather cold.

"You... killed him", Joshua answered, barely being able to talk.

"Yes. Well done".

"But why?"

"I knew all along he was undercover police, had it written across his face. But, most of all, I wanted to show these idiots who's boss. They seem to be having a hard time understanding the change of power".

"These idiots?" She just chuckled.

"Have you really not worked it out yet? God, you must be Mycroft's poster boy, 'cause they definitely didn't hire you for your brains", she mocked. "This is my barracks, Mr. Joshua, and this..." She gestured to the people sitting in the café, who had become rather uncomfortable. "Is my army". Joshua suddenly felt very isolated. He was surrounded by murderers, criminals, and traitors, people that he hadn't seen since the Reichenbach, Sherlock's fall. "Now", the woman started, noticing his sudden change in stature. "You're going to give me what I want".

"Why can't you get it yourself? The papers are full of the man".

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Why can't you get it yourself?" Joshua asked again, emphasising more.

"I've been living abroad for a while. Apparently the news about Mr. Holmes hasn't spread to Ireland yet".

"You're Irish?"

"Well, that would come with the idea that I've been living in Ireland, so yes", the woman replied. "But enough about me. Last chance. What is Sherlock Holmes's weakness?" Joshua didn't say anything, and in return she promptly slapped him across the face.

"...I don't know". She just laughed.

"Now that answer will get neither you or me anywhere".

"I told you, I don't know". Her face expression dropped to a scowl.

"Take him downstairs", she murmured towards the remaining hired-man. "Let's see how he talks after a little... persuasion".