Summary: This is not a love story; no it was much too filled with hurt to be love. It could probably be considered a tragic tale of consequence or a tragedy. So the stories ending had already been set up, if you wish to continue then listen at your own expense. 'All lives end, all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage.' Post-Reichenbach
"A small fact: You are going to die...does this worry you?" - Markus Zusak
XOXOX
A young woman, in her late twenty's sat on a stack of crates in a dark alleyway. Across from her stood a well dressed gentleman, the woman was rolling her eyes at him as she took another swig of her bottle. He sighed giving the woman a very disgruntled look. His glance was towards the end of the alleyway, the woman jumped down. She now stood in front of him; her frame was small and frail. This was most likely the result of malnourishment; he was pretty sure if he touched her she'd break. "Look Mr. Holmes, I'm sorry for you loss. But there is nothing I can do for you; you've got the wrong person." She walked away from the man with the umbrella, disappearing into the night.
It would be months before the strange frail woman would make another appearance but this time it wouldn't be to the man with the umbrella, but to a soldier. During the month of May, John was clearing out Sherlock's things from the main room of 221b. He had truly intended on leaving Baker Street after the suicide of his former best friend, being that he himself did not have enough means to support the rent of the flat. That's when a handsome cheek was sent to Mrs. Hudson the landlady from an unknown donor paying off the rent for the next year and a half, and a note urging one John Watson to stay put at Baker Street. A week later he would meet the donor.
Pale green eyes stared at 221b from the other side of the street; they belonged to a young woman of average height. There was nothing spectacular about her appearance; she wore a simple black coat and dark skinny jeans with worn black boots. This was half attempt to appear normal. He long black hair fell around her face in loose waves, framing her angular face. The coat served another purpose beside to make her look healthy; it hid several inch long thin scares and small bruises. She looked both ways before making her way over to the flat.
When she arrived to the door, she knocked exactly three times then waited until the door opened. She half expected that it would be the landlady, instead it was the soldier. She stared at him with little interest just barged in, it was a notion he had a costume to by Sherlock. But as he looked at the woman, he wondered what in the world she was doing. "Are you John Watson?" The woman finally spoke, glancing at him with full interest now.
"Uh, yes." He responded confused, she looked around again.
"I'm Hel, well Helena. But do call me Hel." She told him, looking around the entrance for a while.
"Can I help you with something?" John finally asked, this time the woman, no Hel turned and strode over to him.
"Finally you ask, yes I have a note for you. No I will not tell you who it's from, I do not know. I am simply the messenger." She told him while reaching into her coat to get the letter. Handing over the envelope to him she gave him a weary smile.
"Do you mind if I sit somewhere?" She asked, the internal comparison that he was doing of this strange woman and late friend ended there. It was most likely because she asked, Sherlock never asked. "We can go upstairs." Hel nodded her head and followed John up the stairs. Once inside the flat, she took a seat on the couch glancing at the two chairs with a funny look.
"Is something the matter?" John asked noticing her glance at the chairs. She gave him a startled expression before sighing.
"You should read the letter; it will explain things to you. I'll wait here." She spoke cryptically. Hel grabbed the book off the coffee table and opened it; she began to read it as John opened the letter. He read over the letter, as Hel half read her book the other half was silently watching for his reaction.
When John finished reading the letter, he gave Hel a cautious look. He didn't say anything, but he sank down into one of the empty chairs. The letter was gripped tight in his hand, and tears filled his eyes. Finally he looked over to her; she had set the book down and was staring at him curiously. It was as if his response was not something she had expected, so she studied it.
"Thank you." Was next thing John Watson said, his tears were dried when he managed to look over at the woman. She had a soft expression on her face, leaning over she placed one of her small hands on his knees. Soon after Helena stood, she walked over to the door the book from the table in her hand. "Do you mind if I borrow this? I'll bring it back later this week. Then we can have proper chat, right now I have an appointment to catch. Oh Dr. Watson, you should take the job at the Children's clinic." Helena disappeared out the doorway with those words; John would see her again until two weeks later when she would waltz right into the flat.
….
During the first week of June John woke up and walked down the steps to find Helena sitting on the couch again, a different book was in her hands. The previous book was sitting in the exact spot she'd pick it up from. He noticed that her black coat was hung over the arm of the couch, John also noticed despite it being warmer outside Helena wore a long sleeved white jumper with a torn pair of skinny jeans and the same worn boots. Her long locks were tied up in a messy bun, and she wore little makeup.
"Good morning." She stated, never looking up from the page. John should have been aggravated, but there was something so familiar about her that he just did not possess the heart to.
"Morning. Helena, when did you get here?" John asked while sitting across from her again. She looked up now, a light scowl on her face.
"It's Hel, or Hella. I arrived thirty minutes ago. Mrs. Hudson was leaving just as I was entering she said you'd be awake soon. So I made myself comfortable. Sorry I didn't return the book sooner, things had been busy. Oh I have another letter for you." Helena leaned forward handing John another letter.
"You can't read this one until I'm gone. That's what I've been told." Helena informed him, and then leaned back in her seat.
"Why did you pay for the flat?" John finally asked, he decided it would better just ask upfront then skirt around the question. Helena closed the book, and gave John a genuine smile. This was something that he hadn't seen in a long time.
"I'm in the possession of a large sum of money. Your friend Sherlock Holmes, he saved my life and I never got to repay him for that. This was the least I could do." Helena told him sincerely, her pale eyes shone brightly for a moment.
John and Helena talked for hours after the moment passed. He asked about her, she gave him evasive answers. But he understood some liked their secrets, Sherlock sure had. It was almost lunch time when Helena stood dismissing herself taking another book with her and reminding John about the letter before retreating out the door and to the street. That would be the last time John would see her for a few months, he would wonder about her from time to time but he was sure she'd be fine.
…..
Helena walked down a dark alleyway; waiting for her in the darkness was a dead man. She'd been hiding him for months now with the help of a doctor from St. Barts. He was dressed in a long black coat, black pants and black shoes. His hair was messy, and his scarf at this point adorned her neck to cover another bruise that had formed on her light skin. She approached him with silent footsteps; he did not acknowledge her presence until she stood directly in front of him. "Good evening Mr. Smith." They had agreed to only call him by an alias when outside her home.
"Have you seen him lately?" He asked, Helena rolled her eyes at him.
"Just this morning, I delivered the second letter to him, and explained why I paid for the flat. Just like you told me to, Mr. Smith. Now let's get you inside, it's burning up out here." Helene walked passed him, and he followed. They entered the back way into an apartment complex, no one was around.
Helena walked over to a door marked 14a , she unlocked the door before the couple made their way into the nice flat. The man made himself comfortable on a white couch; Helena threw the book at him. "I got this for you, at some point I'll have to return it." She said while sinking into a black chair, Helena pulled her laptop off the side table. Having left her shoes at the doors, she tucked her feet under her sitting Indian style; her computer was in her lap.
"Hel." An hour later, Helena looked up to see the dark haired man giving her a curious look.
"What is it Mr. Holmes." She finally asked a moment later.
"How much longer?" Helena closed her eyes, sighing. She really didn't wish to speak of this right now. Closing her laptop she looked up at him.
"Two years maybe, I think it's a bunch of rubbish. I'll be fine Mr. Holmes." The man did not look convinced; Helena looked out the window the well lit street of London. She stood after a moment of silence passed, Helena headed into the kitchen. "Do you want a cuppa?" She asked.
"Black, two sugars." Mr. Holmes answered back. Then continued reading his book, when he got bored waiting for Helena he leaned over and grabbed her laptop off the table. He was curious as to what she had been researching.
Helena walked back into the room a couple of minutes later and handed him his tea first, then sat back in her chair. She rolled her eyes at the fact he had her laptop, it didn't matter to her anyway. He knew all her dark secret regardless of is she had tried to hide them. "Has anything interesting happened to you lately, Mr. Holmes?" Helena inquired, taking a sip of her tea soon after.
So he told of her of the few cases he worked while in hiding, about how he was tracking down Moriarty's remaining wed and destroying it. Then he asked her how John seemed to be doing, and she told him that he was recovering, and that his fake death had caused a lot of pain for John. His facial expression softened for a moment, he noticed that her expression matched his. They both looked as if they'd fallen into deep thought. A knock on the door startled Helena out of her temporary daze. She got up from her chair and walked over to the door. On the other side stood a woman in a black dress and a doctor's coat, Helena smiled to herself as she opened the door. "Siren, come in." The man nodded his head towards the new guest before standing up and exiting the room giving the women their privacy.
"It's time for you weekly shot, you were supposed to come in today." The woman Siren sighed; she then had Helena sit down in the black chair. She pulled a syringe filled with a blue liquid out of her medical bag. Helena pushed up her right sleeve, to reveal a bruised and very thin arm. Siren went through the normal procedure before giving Helena the shot. Afterwards Siren had Helena take a white pill; she sat across from the woman in the gray chair when the medical 'exam' was over.
"Hel, you're not getting any better. I'm worried about you. You really need to try to eat some more food. I know the pill makes you have less of an appetite but you need the nourishment." Siren rambled; Helena rolled her eyes at the mousy woman.
"It will be alright Siren, thank you for coming all the way here. But I'm terribly busy so you must be off." Siren rolled her eyes at Helena's brash statement, but inclined to her wish and left as soon as she was done cleaning up her supplies. Helena retired to her room an hour later, her laptop in hand as she walked up the small staircase that would take her to the top level of 14a. She would remain in solitude for two days. All this talk of her inevitable fate was tiring and she would need to be by herself for a time, so she could continue with her work when her mind was cleared. They would never realize it, but Helena was really not okay with what was to come.
….
The next time John saw Helena is was at the clinic, she was being carried in bridal style by a young man. He helped the man and Helena to a room, where Dr. Song was waiting for them. assisted the young man as they laid her onto a bed, she instructed John to start a drip as she gave Helena a shot. A worried look lingered on her face. "Siren, Hel will be alright." The young man spoke up. Siren mumbled something to her, as John finished the drip.
"Thank you Dr. Watson, you may go. Please send Nurse Jones this way, he'll be the only one Ms. Smith will be comfortable with besides me. Oh, take Nick with you." Dr. Song pointed at the young man, 'Nick' rolled his eyes at the woman. He walked out before John did, whistle an old tune as he walked.
When John caught up to the man, 'Nick' held out his hand to the other man. "I'm Nicklaus, it's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Watson." He said, John took his hand. "Nice to meet you, It's John." John told the man, Nicklaus gave him a smirk before responding in a more sarcastic tone. "I know. Use to read your blog." He told him, John's face fell a little.
Nicklaus gave John a very sincere look. "I know you don't know me, but I know a lot about you. You are a great and brilliant man John Watson, what you're doing, helping people that's incredible. I wouldn't have been near as strong as you if I lost my best friend." He walked away after that leaving John standing there, very confused, and a bit sad.
Helena would wake up from her comatose like state three days later. She sat up in the hospital to see a bouquet of flowers on her side table. They were addressed to Ms. Smith from S.S., she smirked at the two tiny S's. She relaxed against the pillow just as Siren slipped in the room; Siren gave Helena a very disapproving look. "What was it this time Ms. Smith? Hel I told you to not over extend yourself." Siren scolded laying her diagnostic book on the bed. Rolling her eyes Helena sat further up. "When can I return to my flat?" She asked, Siren gave her another look.
"Later today, Nicklaus will be here to retrieve you at noon. So you have about an hour." Siren informed her plainly, obviously displeased with having to let Helena go home.
"You can check up on me when your off clock, I have important business to attend to. You know that, need I remind you how you got this job Elizabeth." Helena used her friend's middle name, smirking as she did so. But you could hear it in her tone that she wasn't happy. Siren picked up her folder and stormed out. She laughed at the younger woman's theatrics.
Ten minutes later, Helena was dressed in the clothes that were left for her. She looked around the room, the amount of how much she hated clinics and hospitals came rushing through her veins as she gave the room a distasteful look. Something in the room was off, it didn't seem right. When she couldn't come to the conclusion of what was wrong she let out a frustrated grunt. "Now, now, Ms. Blackwood. Not everything can be up to your standards of perfection." Helena turned her head quickly, there in the doorway stood Mr. Holmes the older. Her eyes narrow dangerously at him, it was a warning.
"Ah, Mr. Holmes. It's always such a pleasure to see you." She said sarcastically, giving him an uninterested glance before continuing her assessment of the room. He returned the look.
"Ms. Blackwood, it would be in your best interest to come with me." Helena raised a brow at him, a smirk still playing on her lips.
"Your threatening me, I'm so afraid." She deadpanned after her last statement then added. "You can't touch me." And they both knew that in reality he could do nothing to her, no one in all of Great Britain could contain Helena Blackwood.
XoxoX
AN: This is going to be a short story, only 4-5 chapters long. Please stay tuned.
I do not own Sherlock, or any cannon characters.
Leave a comment/review and tell me what you think.