Who. Willa Thompson, Jonas Aldred and Jena Williams What. Moriarty's having a party. Sherlock and Watson are on the case. Where. The St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan, NY When. Forward dated to Saturday night, December 10th 2011 Warnings. TBD?
Willa Thompson was a woman who liked her ends, tight or loose, to be tied up. Ever the paranoid dictator, she kept her enemies close until she found reason to kill them off just like her friends. She could never claim to be someone with very many morals, even before the Professor showed up, but he certainly hadn't helped matters anyway. At least from one perspective. From hers? She'd only gained that much more once he arrived, and together they'd accomplished more than she'd ever dreamed in her still relatively short life time. She was a figure of supreme authority in the Resistance, she had her own successful and ever thriving business thanks to her late husband, not to mention a web of criminals at her disposal so large that she'd even managed to impress Moriarty himself. She had wealth and power, everything she could ever possibly desire at her fingertips. Except for one.
Sherlock Holmes.
Yes, when it came to Willa Thompson she was no exception to the rule that stated, what drew your reincarnate to certain ends, would most certainly draw you too. This time, the 'ends' were a little unclear, but that was what was so exciting about this one. She'd already jailed one Holmes, and the universe had been kind enough to deliver her another, to toy with as she pleased. She was a woman possessed, which the Professor took care to warn her about. He had been too, and that had eventually been his downfall. They were a proud twosome, but they weren't above learning from their mistakes. She had no plans of falling off a cliff anytime soon though.
She wasn't a fool. She knew Sherlock Holmes to be a thorough detective, and if he was looking for Moriarty than she had no doubt he would find her eventually if he hadn't already. She wasn't as keen to hide away in the shadows, and she still had a clean business to run. At least in the public eye. Edward Thompson had been the CEO of his late father's law firm, but it was Willa who had made it what it was. The self proclaimed heiress had been the one to reach out to her husband's criminally inclined clients once they were on the outside and give them a chance to start a new life of crime free from prosecution. Her late husband's company, now hers after his 'untimely' death, had been running in tip top shape ever since her take over last year. She couldn't be more pleased with its progress, or the steady ring of followers she was slowly gaining since then.
Everything was falling into place.
Tonight was the annual Christmas party for the company. Since Willa was CEO and therefore the face of the firm, everything had to be perfect. The party was being held in the ballroom at the St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan, the place even more decked out to the nines than it was on any other given day. Everyone who was anyone was there. The place was full, the people chatting and dancing, and the drinks flowing. Willa was in her element, a little grateful to be spending an evening away from all her Resistance comrades and indulging in a little high society. Dressed from neck line to toe in a modest but flattering black dress with very little back, she was busy sipping on her second glass of champagne and trying not to look too bored by the senator currently talking her ear off. She alternated between painstakingly long sips and tight lipped smiles, only laughing when he actually asked her to dance.
"Mmm, no. Shan't." Then she was weaving away from him through the crowd, not bothering to take into account the shocked expression on his face as she made her way to a different group of people who would hopefully prove to be a little more interesting.