Partners In Crime: Beginners Luck - A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction [COMPLETED]

Chapter 10: Interesting

WARNING: EXTREME VIOLENCE, I DO NOT OWN THE VIDEO.

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"You're a psychopath."

"I prefer creative."

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Lizbeth wasn't boring.

James realized this after three weeks of working with her. Noticing the little flares she would put into her work. A quick, graceful little spin as she leaped over something. A simple little flick of her wrist as she threw her knife. The little things that made her, well, her. It was amazing the little things he noticed, that made his heart speed up just a tad, for a reason he was still unsure of.

She was fast. Efficient. Perfectly deadly. He had seen her seduce her targets in mere seconds, drawing the men's attention to her swaying hips, or the perfect shade of red to her lips. The sway of her hair, perhaps? She had been growing it out lately, tucking it into her cap when she went on a job. Ah yes, she was quite interesting indeed. This was... Unusual.

He never had found anyone interesting. Even Sebastian had his boring moments. But Bee... She was completely unpredictable. Again, another rarity.

She was reckless. She was completely mad. Ridiculously wild and free.

And she was beautiful.

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The second mission he went on with her was an assassination. Someone had requested that a Irish man named Bret Motts be assassinated in his hotel room, and that he was to be rather bloodied and bruised before he died. 

Beth and Jim had picked the lock and broken in within minutes, and quickly found places to hide until the man came home. Jim had closed himself in the closet, the door open just a crack so that he could see what was happening. Beth had somehow squeezed herself into the cupboard, maneuvering herself around the various bottles of vodka, giving a flirtatious wink towards where the consulting criminal was hiding before taking a rather large gulp.

Motts came home half an hour after that, laughing as he looked down at his phone. Plopping down on his couch, he bit down on some random snack that had been tucked neatly into his pocket. After a few minutes, Beth slithered out of her hiding place, sneaking around the furniture with an impossible grace.

And then all hell broke loose.

He gasped as the thief leaped at him, giving a hard punch to his cheek. He was knocked backwards, sending him over the edge of the sofa and to the floor. He tried to get up, but she straddled him, continuing to land blows wherever she could. Thrashing away from her, he got one of his arms loose, and managed to punch her close to her eye. She growled, wrapping her arms around his neck, strangling him. She would allow him a breath every little bit, keeping him alive, keeping him bruised. His ring had given her a cut near her eyebrow, and she blinked away the small trickle of blood. Motts finally forced his way away from her, grabbing onto her cap and yanking it off of her head, before getting a firm hold of her hair and pulling.

She gave a pained cry, and tore herself away from him, yet he barely got a hold on her again, this time holding onto her shoulders, and throwing her against the wall. Jim leaped out of the closet, brandishing his pistol, yet Beth was already up, shaking the dazed feeling away and lunging for her target. Teeth bared, bleeding ever so slightly from a few cuts, her hair wild, she looked like an animal. She rammed the man over the table, into the TV stand, growling the whole time. Motts yelled something, before he was unceremoniously pressed against the wall.

Beth gave a perfectly blood chilling look, smirking devilishly as she ran her fingers against his lips. He looked away, exposing his neck in a way that a dog would show submission.

"Y-You're ins-s-sane!" Motts stuttered nervously, squirming under her intense gaze.

"Oh, sweetie," she said it as if talking to a distressed child, sweet and tender, "You say it as if it's a bad thing..."

And in seconds, Beth was taking out her knife, and ramming it into his throat with a sickening ease.

She wiped the blood away from her eyes, "You got a bandage?"

Behind her, Bret Motts body fell to the ground, the knife falling with him. She didn't even look back.