Sherlock nodded as the woman spoke. His suspicions were correct, she was a prostitute. The story seemed to line up well, but he needed a bit more to make an alibi. “And what time did all of this go down? An hour ago? Mere minutes? A day? And how did you make your way over here?” he could tell she had walked, but getting all the facts was useful in these cases.
"Half an hour. And I flew here, Sherlock. . . I fucking walked, I'm not a damn bird you reprobate." Diana glares.
“A strong vocabulary and temper, then.” he said, a smile lighting up his usually gallows-bent expression. “I’d recommend against such foul language in the presence of police officers.” he said, tone turning gravely serious once more. “Look, I want to help you. But in order to help, I’ll need communication. Cooperation. And most importantly, I’ll need you to be watching for any other crimes that seem a bit too off for London’s general scene.” he said, crouching down beside Diana. “I’ll also need your name. Your real name, preferably.” dammit, maybe old Watson was right. He would need the help from someone on the inside.
"Look, I just lost my sister. Cut me some slack, officer." Diana snarks.
"Yeah, well. . . if you're supposedly the smartest man alive, stop asking me dumb questions like 'how did you get here.' Maybe I'd be a little more likely to trust you to get revenge for me. Communication isn't an issue as long as it isn't over dumb bullshit like 'when was the last time you saw her.' I'm a prostitute, I'm meant to be used for my looks, not my mind. I'll help you get places you wouldn't normally be able to get to. I'll get you information. Just don't ask stupid questions that waste the time we could be using to catch this fucker."
"As for my name? It's Diana."
Sherlock could almost laugh. Almost. “I don’t ask questions like that for fun and games, you know.” he said. “I need to hear you give your alibi, in your own words. That way when the police come knocking I’ll be able to give them your words and not my petty assumptions. And I don’t claim to be the smartest man alive. All I claim is an alliance with those who need help, regardless of situation.”
“Now, Diana, if you want me on your side you’re genuinely going to need to listen more than you talk. Alright?” he asked, a bit less than calm but not irritated in the slightest. He seemed legitimately interested in her and her case, for whatever reason that was.
Diana rolls her eyes. She was starting to get very ticked off at this man.
"'Petty assumptions' my arse. 'Not the smartest man alive?' Who is smarter than you then, hm? Not even your smarts can solve that little puzzle because there is nobody." she says, her tone indicating a certain ammount of being fed up with the way Sherlock was dancing around with words.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I'll be quiet immediately!" she says, the snark evident in her bright tone. She was starting to regret coming to this condescending man.
Sherlock didn’t know if he was really helping or not. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a pale, thin hand. John said he wasn’t eating enough and was smoking too much, maybe the girl could sense it and knew his sins even more closely than he did. Most people didn’t seem to understand the pressure there was, being a man like he who came out of nowhere from the unders of society. He would give anything to never go back. “Look. What do you want to do? With this case, I mean. I know the obvious answer, you want the criminal caught. But how do you plan to get there with me? I’m not magic, not a miracle worker. I can’t just… poof! Solve the case just as teatime arrives. Whatever you’ve heard about me is probably all wrong. So tell me: what do you want from me?” he didn’t ask this angrily. Anger wasn’t an emotion Holmes typically felt. But it was a bit frustrating, how this girl thought she could trample all over him just because he needed time. Maybe he was cracking, really.
"I don't want it to be a 'poof!' And I've heard of Baskerville and the other stories. Those are not all wrong, that much is for certain. SO yeah, I have a bit more faith in you than is probably warranted but if anybody can do it, it's you. So what I want is for you to either catch the killer or kill him." Diana glares, but her tone was slightly softer.
"Sherlock Holmes, just don't ask stupid questions you very well know the answer to. Just help me get revenge." she says quietly.
He looked at Diana quizzically. She was being so hostile, without any chance for a reprieve from the verbal assault. And why? Obviously she was traumatized, but that still wasn’t an excuse to act the fool. “I’m not going to kill anyone for you unless it comes to it. And even then… I don’t want to kill anyone, even a murderer. That would make me just as bad.” he said. “And for the record, I have a lead. Do you have any fine clothing? I have a friend if not.” he said, gears in his head turning rapidly.
Diana sighs.
"Sherlock, I'm a whore. I'm wearing the only kind of clothing I have." she replies tiredly.
Sherlock nods. “That’s no problem. How do you feel attending a ball with me?” he asked, knowing the event was tomorrow and that he wouldn’t have much time to prepare.
Diana's eyes widen in shock.
"What the hell?" she blurts out.
“A ball. Like, a dance.” he said simply, as if she didn’t understand him the first time. “I need someone there who knows the corruption of the upper class. I need… well, an insider.”
"I know what a ball is. I'm a whore, not a social ignoramus." Diana snaps.
"And why me? Why not anyone else? You're definitely hot enough to get the king himself to lust after you, so why pick me? For ease of access?" she asks.
Sherlock laughed at that. “You think I want people to lust after me? You’d be sorely mistaken if so. No, it’s merely a way to further this case.” he said. “A few representative doctors and scientists will be there from a very well known Society, the Brotherhood of Minds. It’s something of both an exhibition and a fundraiser for them, and an opportunity for the rich to gawk at the marvels of the modern world from up close and personal.”
“However, I have a few theories as to who our killer could be. He seems to be working with more than one person, you couldn’t take that many lives and not get caught if you were working alone. And it appears that they’re either very well versed in human biology, or otherwise they’re very skilled in ripping people apart. Not exactly a common skill among anyone but our lovely studious populous.”
"Technically I never wanted anyone to lust after me. Actually, not even technically. I started prostitution to feed my sister." Diana grumbles. "And I suppose that even the great Sherlock Holmes can't view a whore as anything more than a means to an end, can he. Makes sense. Everything is a bit of evidence or a tool."
She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, from the front to the back. "Alright, alright. I'm just supposed to be a serving girl or something, yeah? I don't need to know those neat little details. Just tell me who all I need to get close to and provide a good physical description."
Sherlock addressed her comments in reverse. “You’ll need to mingle in the crowd a bit, show interest in people. You can’t be your usual snappy self, and you can’t let on you’re a prostitute. You’ll be my plus one, the eponymous Lady Chrysalis. My friend is a fashion designer, she’ll give you the clothes and you’ll be the model.”
“And Diana? You’re a person. You’re just a useful person at the moment. But I don’t want to put you in danger. You’re too valuable just on the basis of being an innocent human life. So don’t assume things about my motives, and don’t assume I don’t care. As for your role as a prostitute- you need to be careful. I have met many horrible men in my time and if you let anything on about who you really are, we’ll both be ruined and you’ll probably be hurt very badly. I don’t want that to happen.” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Please, just work with me here. I need your help just as much as you need mine.”
Diana snorts at the pompous sounding title. "It's a masquerade ball, isn't it. . . god bloody damn it."
"Whatever. Person or no, I'm still just a tool to help get a job done. I used to be a tool to help my sister, but I don't have that anymore. So this is what I have left. So don't bother with worrying if I get hurt or not. It will lead to unwanted grief and useless emotions towards me." she murmurs, shifting so that Sherlock's hand falls away from her shoulder.
Sherlock suddenly felt a sense that this girl must truly have nothing to live for. Really, just a hunch, but he didn’t know what would happen if he solved this case. Would she still have a reason to keep going? He wasn’t sure.
He drew his hand back when she shifted, letting it fall to his side. “Hey, no. You have to keep going. There’s always a reason to.” he said, thinking back to the times before he’d been with Watson. The doctor had found him starving in the streets near a decade ago, and had heard him out. Heard his story, and understood. He might as well extend the same courtesy to Diana.
“Let me be your reason. I can’t promise I’m a good one, but trust me, dying would be much worse.” he’d seen corpses before, the stench of death and despair, and he’d known that whatever heaven or hell was out there, if any at all… dying was no good.
"Like what? Eventually getting beat to death by a man who likes to take things just that much further with the woman he's with? Or because he's pissed that you can't fuck him a certain way? In the end I'm a corpse anyways; whether I die because I'm beat or I die because I starve isn't of importance. Death at this point would be a welcome guest in my life. But first I have to get revenge," Diana shakes her head.
“Diana… I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I’ve been where you are now, in some ways I still am.” working late nights in bars or brothels, it was all the same. The only difference between him then and now was that he was working with, perhaps for, the King’s dogs. Never again would he be out on the streets if he could help it.
“But enough sentimentality as I’m sure you tire of it. I need to get you dressed and fitted immediately.” he said, snapping out of the past and pulling himself and then Diana from the ground. “Well, if you agree to come along, that is. I certainly won’t force you.”
Diana definitely believed it. But Sherlock was. . . well, different than her to say the least. He had intelligence and the will to live. Diana had neither. "Yeah, well. . . you had intelligence and friends, at least."
She nods, pulling away as soon as possible when Sherlock pulls her to her feet. "There's no other way to catch him, is there? No point in refusing."
(boop)