KBelle’s Comments (group member since Oct 27, 2013)

KBelle’s comments from the Sherlock Holmes Advanced RP group.

Watson's face fell a bit as he noticed something off with his friend. He stood and studied the bedroom a bit more, rifling through the suitcase. Just a few personal belongings and clothes. He didn't see how it was so important. He snapped the bedroom door shut behind him and stood in the hall outside the bathroom, rubbing his eyes before sighing in the usual exasperated manner that only Sherlock could provoke. "What's going on Sherlock? Lady friend let you down?"

"What is this all? What's it doing here Sherlock?" He asked in utter bemusement, leaning against the door frame.

"What?" John stood with difficulty and walked over with his cane down the hall. "Bit the doors and windows are locked"

"Well Sherlock I don't know." He said curtly, turning his head to watch him. "Why? What's happened?"

"Yeah actually I..."
He frowned and looked down at his phone before pocketing it. He straightened up and rested his hands on the arms of the overstuffed arm chair, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Yeah, actually. Did you lock the flat?"

John arrived home, putting down his umbrella and greeting Mrs. Hudson, accepting her offer for tea as always. A light drizzle had begun in the streets. After all, it was London. He pulled out the key and unlocked their flat, which was odd, as Sherlock never valued anything enough to lock it up. He sat down and switched on the television before it hit him. It was quite late. And Sherlock was nowhere to be found. He pulled out his phone to call him.

Adele came back to the apartment, her expensive leather glove buzzing as Ms. Hudson greeted her with the usual slightly deluded smile, yet it was warm all the same. She gave her a curt smile and nod, assuring her she needed no tea, and tread silently the stairs to the flat, locking the door behind her. She knew John was at his job and Sherlock was at least forty minutes behind. Here came in her real skills. The test. To reveal she was just as good as Sherlock.

She sighed and took first her lovely hand stitched, hand formed leather suitcase, setting it under the bed and leaving the sheet just off perfect so only he would know. The clothes from the suitcase and the ones she was wearing, as well as every piece of jewelry, she put in Rose's room, as she had known the instant she had met her they were the same size. She then put on a tight pair of jeans and a high neck sweater, cuffing the maroon sleeves of the button down underneath. These clothes weren't Rose's. oh no. Her sleuth would pick up on the missing pieces all to easily. She had picked them up at a corner store, paying in coins and staying away from any cameras, wearing a wig so the clerk could not testify to having seen her. She then preceded to the bathroom, pulling from her new messenger bag, cheap, not her style a bottle of expensive blonde dye. This she had splurged on, knowing it had to be believable. Once satisfied she put on a pair of glasses and smirked, wiping off her dark lipstick and rouge for lighter tones before smiling at herself in the mirror. Nothing that would fool Holmes, but certainly that could get her by him on a street camera. She knew his OCD. And she refused to be tracked down like he would try so hard to do. She trashed the bottle of brown, which she'd picked up in Chinatown as a defect, taking a slight bit of brown from a separate bottle and expertly staining the sink as if it were what she'd used. She then removed her gloves with a smirk, leaving fingerprints against his mirror and lamp and lastly, his violin. She smirked before pulling a cd from its case. She knew it well. Mozart. She replaced it with an identical cd, yet the middle had her voice. Detailing to him the whole mess with Moriarty, not telling everything, just how she couldn't stay. He never used it, and she replaced it back at the bottom of the pile, covering it in dust once more, secure in the fact he wouldn't find it. She left one last thing. Her perfume and a letter beneath it, both sitting in his drawer among his drugs, the address to him, reading "Read only upon the event that you are entirely certain I am dead. " it was sealed with wax and stamped with the Scotland Yard seal, which made her smile. With that she sighed, slipping on new gloves, satisfied there were no other traces. She climbed out the window, fixing the latch and looking at her boots in disgust before dropping down and walking away down the street, hailing a cab. It was done. Over. Gone.

She turned and fixed her bag on her shoulder, her sexy smirk ever present, her heels clicking audibly with each long stride. As if she wasn't struggling internally. As if she weren't trying hard not to turn around. She was leaving all she had left. Walking away. And she didn't plan to ever return. But she had to kill John. She had to kill Moriarty. Or bring him to his knees. In a way that she was anonymous, a ghost, and he wasn't in danger. She had to go completely dark. She sighed and bit her lip as she hailed a cab.

She smiled, locking away whatever emotion remained and leaning back against his firm hold. Her eyes flickered back to the man, a shadowy flame lingering in them. She should've done it. Should've killed him. Yet she managed a weak smile and looked back at Sherlock. "Now now Holmes. Wouldn't want your enemies knowing you actually cared about something, would you?" She smirked, fixing his collar one last time.

She smiled sadly, meeting his eyes as she took the weapon into her warm hands, slipping it unnoticably into her coat, biting her lip before kissing his cheek before leaning back slightly, her face lingering close. "I love you" she smiled.

His breath fogged in her face in the cold air, his voice crisp and curt and clean, the way she loved it. Her hands froze, yet she refused to look at him. "Away Sherlock," she whispered gently.

"Sherlock. I can't stay with you. With the gang and Moriarty hunting me. Stay here." She tucked the handkerchief neatly back in his pocket.

"Shut up Holmes. " she stopped and rifled through her bag, handing him back a smooth white handkerchief. "This is yours. You left it that night. Thought you'd want it back" she growled, slipping back into her heels.

She ripped her hand furiously from his grasp, her eyes narrow. "Don't treat me that way, Holmes. Like an ignorant child. " she set her jaw, the act reminding her of her father. "Stay away" she spat before glaring back at Jonathan. "He'll let you go. I should've murdered you when I had the chance. I hope you rot" she held back all emotion then, pulling her phone swiftly from her bag and dropping it onto the ground in front of Sherlock, turning. She'd disappeared before. She could do it again.

She shoved Al out of the way, hardly moving at all. "And they come after us if I don't, stupid girl. Because we've seen too much. " she shrugged. "At Least I have. And personally, no offense doll, I don't care if you die. Or those two" she pointed to the other two girls. "Or him" she pointed to John then repeated herself. "I don't care"

"Rose get out of the way" Natalie growled, at which Adele nodded, not lowering his weapon. "Move girl. You think I've never killed two people before to get the job done" she breathed, swallowing hard.

((She's in shock. She loves this guy. And Aaron was undercover for Moriarty in his gang but was discovered and killed))

Adele stood in fury, her every muscle tense and shaking. She had wanted this so long. When she was laying in that bed for months, this had gotten her through.

"Well too bad. I watched the man I love die too. Perhaps you recall that?" Her skirt blew in the slight breeze as she cocked the gun and pressed the trigger halfway.

Adele kicked her heels off and ran past Sherlock with her gun raised, putting a bullet through Johns shoulder so he released Rose and fell clutching his shoulder. "You won't be taking anyone boy" she spat, aiming for right between his eyes this time coldly.