She laughed, "I - can I go on a walk?"
"You don't need to ask." John smiled, "You can do whatever a law-abiding citizen can do."
"So no stealing?" She joked although realised that it was going to be quite true once she got in with the Forty Elephants.
"No. No stealing." Sherlock shook his head as he placed an arm around her shoulders, "If I can't have the drugs, you can't be stealing. And if we both give in then who knows what chaos will ensue."
"True..." She sighed, delighted with the freedom she had finally been gifted, "I think I'm gonna go on a walk."
* * * * * * * *
The men couldn't wait to get her out of the flat. If she had never thought of going on a walk, then the two would have had their work cut out for them trying to find a way to get rid of her. Birthdays only happened once a year and without knowing how she had celebrated them before, Sherlock knew he had to make this one special. The first birthday of the rest of her life.
"Sherlock." John called to him from across the living room. When he looked up, John held up a small white jewellery gift bag, "I got it!"
Making his way over slower than he would have liked, Sherlock took the bag from him with a thanks before opening it to check that everything was in order. When he opened the white box inside the bag, a smile lit up his face.
"Perfect, John...she will like it, won't she?"
"Of course she will, mate. Don't stress."
Don't stress was a very good point. One so simple to say but ten times harder to do.
Sherlock just prayed that tonight would be perfect.
* * * * * * * *
On her walk, Elizabeth had gotten a text from Rita:
<Happy Birthday! Congrats on your freedom X - R.R.>
She smiled knowingly and responded.
<Thank you. How's Mycroft? - E.P.>
<Why do you ask? - R.R.>
<He mentioned that he had an arrangement and I was wondering if you were perhaps part of it? - E.P.>
<Well, my business isn't really to do with you now, is it? - R.R.>
<I'll take that as a yes then :) - E.P.>
<Have you decided whether you're in or not yet? - R.R.>
At this, Elizabeth frowned. No stealing, Sherlock had said. And yet she was about to join a gang who stole on the daily. She knew she could take them down, all on her own, she knew she could. But would she risk everything she had built up? Elizabeth knew she would have to tell them at some point but she didn't have enough information yet. Why risk the people around her when nothing sufficient could be offered to them? She resolved that she would tell them, but just not yet.
<I want in. - E.P.>
<Head to the Rob'n'Cat. Google directions. Ask for the manager and say you're looking for work. - R.R.>
<Thanks. Enjoy your time with Mycroft :) - E.P.>
To this last message, Elizabeth gained no response but she smiled, feeling pretty confident with her assumptions. Across Sherlock's hospital stay the two appeared together three times. Even Sherlock had a conversation with her about his further suspicions judging by their body language together.
As she walked through the streets, she found herself walking fast. Elizabeth had become too accustomed to following Sherlock around outside and he was always in a hurry. Slowing her pace, she took a breath. No one was with her to dictate her speed. She could take the walk as gentle as she wanted.
Her hair tickled her cheek as the bitter breeze ran it's chilling touch over her face. She relished in the feeling more than she had ever done so before.
Elizabeth was free.
* * * * * * *
There were many more people than she had expected in the café. It was full to the brim with customers. The lighting was low but warm, the atmosphere rustic, there were lush plants hanging on the walls, intertwined with framed photos.
The thief found herself drawn to these pictures.
Taking a closer look at one, she saw the ring leader of the gang, with a smile that could light up a whole room, surrounded by six others, two of which were particular young. Were the two youngest her children, Elizabeth wondered as she glanced around at the other photos which happened to be of cats or staff or events that had occurred here.
"Can I help you, love?" A voice asked from behind her.
Elizabeth turned, looking at her with the corners of her lips upturned at the sides, "I'd like to speak with your manager. I'm looking for a job."
The waitress looked her up and down, sharing her grin, "Right this way, Elizabeth."
* * * * * * * *
Elizabeth had been lead into a backroom with a dimmer light than that of the seating area in the café. In the middle of the smallish room was a dark wooden table - not desk - on top of which lay a ginger cat that was curled up in wicker basket. The thief cooed as she ran her hand across the fur of the peaceful and unbothered creature.
The leader of the gang threw the door to the room open, startling both cat and thief.
"Finally you grace us with your presence and not a moment too soon!"
She sighed the sudden fear out of her, "I've had to deal with some things."
"Yes, Rita mentioned that." Motherly concern shone in her eyes as she made her way around the table to a chair on her side, "Are you and Mr Holmes alright?"
"Uh, yeah. Sherlock's still recovering. The bruises on my neck are...going too."
She nodded, "I've had my fair share of bruises. When I was in prison, I shared a room with a woman who said: 'treat 'em like face paint.' Of course, it does depend on the context of the situation as to how one takes that comment. But I always say that bruises are battle scars that are never physically permanent. The memory will stick with you but after a battle the experience will either break you or strengthen you. I opt for the latter."
Elizabeth was intrigued, "Why did your cell mate compare them to face paint?"
"I asked her the exact same question. She said face paint because it changes you however slight it may be. Paint the face of a tiger onto a child and they act wild until it fades - or it's washed off. Paint someone black and blue and they submit - or they fight back."
Elizabeth felt some comfort in those words knowing she had been the latter yet an eerie sense of melancholy draped its shawl around her shoulders when considering the situations where one didn't or wasn't able to fight back. Sensing the sadness in the room, the leader cleared her throat and stood up again.
"I suppose I should introduce myself properly then." She offered Elizabeth her hand with that toothy grin she had seen in the photo, eyes sparkling with hope and ambition, "Cleo Black, great niece of the infamous Alice Diamond, better known as the Queen of the Forty Elephants - welcome to the gang."
_______________________
A/N -
Ngl but I feel like this is one of my weaker written chapters but I've been working on it for days to finally get it to an acceptable point and honestly I just want to move on with the story.
I'll probably come back and edit it at some point but for now this is how it shall stay and I hope it is okay 😭
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It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes
FanfictionElizabeth Parrish is a thief but not just any thief - She is Moriarty's personal thief. She made a deal with a devil and she enjoyed it: the thrill, the challenge, the money. Every job he gave her left her on a high that she couldn't get enough of...
69 - Welcome
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