Disclaimer-I own nothing, except my blue teddy bear.
A/N- This is my first fanfic. Enjoy! Reviews of all kinds are appreciated.
"Good night, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."
The man in front of me turned, but I was already hurrying away.
"I wonder who the deuce that could have been," I heard him say to his companion.
I smiled. At least I had got the better of him for now.
But my mind was whirling as I made my way down the crowded street.
He knew.
There was only one thing I could do now…
I moved swiftly down the streets I knew so well now, my eye scanning the surroundings until I found what I sought.
I paused. On my right was a large gate. The placard on the wall beside it read "The Inner Temple."
I rang the bell.
A wizened servant looked at me through the bars of the gate.
"What you a' wanting, mister?" he inquired, holding up his lantern so that the light fell onto my face.
"I wish to see Mr. Norton."
He quirked an eyebrow at me.
"An' your name?"
"That is of no consequence." I replied coldly.
"Well, then, I canna-"
"I come from Miss Adler."
There was a very pregnant pause. Then the old man lowered his lantern.
"Vairy well."
The gate swung open. I slipped through, went to the door and rapped smartly on it three times.
The door opened.
"Come in, sir." A butler in uniform ushered me in to the sitting room, taking my hat and cloak.
"Have a seat, sir."
"Thank you. Please tell your master that there is a gentleman waiting to see him on a matter of great importance."
"Yes, sir," said the butler blandly, as butlers are wont to speak. "I will tell him. Your card, sir?"
"I have none."
The butler looked askance at me.
"Very well," he said, and vanished.
Unable to remain seated, I paced the room. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I did not notice Godfrey enter the room, until I felt a pair of arms encircle my waist.
"Irene," he murmured against my cheek.
"You recognized me, then?" I whispered.
He chuckled softly. "It would take more than a faux mustache and a pair of trousers to keep me from knowing my own wife, dearest."
"I am a trained actress, Godfrey," I said, a little huffed.
"So you are, and a deucedly talented one at that," he laughed. "In fact, I doubt that even your old friend the King of Bohemia could tell you from any other youth in the street."
I smiled at the compliment. Dear man! How could I have ever loved -
"Sweet Lord, how could I forget?" I exclaimed, pulling away from his embrace.
Godfrey looked at me, startled.
"What is it, Irene? Is something amiss?"
"Everything," I groaned, sinking into a chair. "It is just as I feared, Godfrey. The King has set him upon our trail, and he has found what he wants."
"Set whom? "
"Sherlock Holmes!"
Godfrey turned white. For a moment, he did not speak.
"But Irene," he said, once he had recovered, "Surely even he cannot know where the photograph is-"
"He does, Godfrey. For I in my folly and my kindness showed him its hiding place. Oh, Lord help us!" And I told him what had happened in my house that evening.
"But how do you know it was indeed he, Irene?"
"I donned these clothes and followed Mr. Holmes to his lodgings. He was explaining what he had done to his colleague. I even had the nerve to wish him good night, although I am sure he did not recognize me."
Godfrey's brow was creased in thought.
"We could hide the photograph here, in my house," he said at length.
"No, Godfrey," I sighed. "I fear that he already knows that we are married. He will search this house for certain."
"But how could he-"
We looked at each other as the same thought hit us both.
The witness at our wedding!
"We must leave the country immediately, Irene," Godfrey said eventually. "That is our only option."
"Leave England? When?"
"Tonight."
I stared at him in amazement.
"Yes, tonight, Irene," he said, rising. "I will make the necessary arrangements. Now, you must go home immediately and pack whatever essentials you need. I will send my coachman with you. At ten o'clock, you must return. I will join you then."
I rose and threw my arms around my husband.
"Forgive me, Godfrey," I whispered earnestly. "I never intended that you should go through so much trouble for my sake."
He smiled and kissed me, mustache and all.
"Fear not, darling," he said. "It is but a small price to pay for a woman like you."
Sherlock Holmes smiled as he closed the door of the bedroom. He glanced at the clock.
"Twelve hours," he said softly. "Twelve hours, and I shall have you in the palm of my hand, Mrs. Norton."
Slowly, he undressed, thinking of the beautiful young woman who had tended to him as he lay pretending to be injured. He thought of the way she had rushed to secure the photograph when the alarm of fire was raised, as was his intention. He thought of the look of reverence in the eyes of the King of Bohemia as he spoke of her.
"Women," he sniffed, as he blew out the candle on the mantelpiece and went to bed.