Please Review. I know the punctuation might not be too good, but I'd like to give my Beta reader a bit of a break. I've done my best and will probably do a catch up soon. Thanks.
Chapter 1
She lifted her dark irises to meet his, the man smiled nervously, she didn't even know his name yet here they were; an empty slum in Soho stripping each other to the flesh, ecstasy running through their bodies with the pulsing movements that felt so fluent and timed they were almost one for that one brief moment in history. Her heart pounded heavily against her chest calling out to him, screaming to him. "Faster" she moaned, her wet lips tracing his neck like a parched cat. He succumbed to her needs the pulse racing faster, her mother's warning words danced over her mind but were soon out of sight; if he only wanted one thing then she'd still give it to him. "Jane" her own name fell softly from his mouth, as she pulled him down above her, meeting their lips in one solid movement.
"Looky here." Jane lifted her head, two dirty looking boys were peering at her and her companion; embarrassed she pulled on her dress quickly struggling to tie up the laces at the back. This was so much more easier with a maid. She felt two strong hands assist her. Her companion had finally awoken, and pulled his gun from a pocket in his coat. The two boys flinched and fell back at the sight of the pistol shining in the early morning light, emerging behind Big Ben. "We weren't doin' anything mister" begged the younger looking one, sharing a panicked look with his friend who looked equally afraid. He tilted his head to one side, motioning for them to go and be quick about it; they gratefully took his gesture, vanishing behind nearest ally.
"We'd better get moving" he smiled, giving her a smile as he adjusted the belt of his trousers. Even dressed he appeared the finest man in London, his young eyes twinkled with excitement as he took her hand and led her into the morning, laughing loudly as he did so, "Marry me Jane?" he smiled, kissing her lips gently, Jane laughed back, what would her friends think, married before some of them were even out of nanny's care. "I don't even know your name" she admitted, fixing her hazel eyes on his deep blue ones, he laughed again, then bowed "Sherlock Holmes my good lady," Jane couldn't help to suppress her giggle, he pretended to look hurt, "What a name" Jane smiled closing the space between them with a kiss "and yes, yes I will marry you Mr Holmes."
Holmes awoke with a start, sweat pouring from his brow. "Watson!" He heard himself shout, clawing helplessly at the covers, "Watson!" He pulled himself together long enough to remember: Watson had moved out three months ago with his new wife, changing tactics in a split second he began shouting "Mrs Hudson!" His landlady and house keeper had soon arrived at his door. "What is it Mr Holmes?" He sat up in bed uncertainty, before spreading his mouth into a grin, "nothing." Mrs Hudson threw her arms up in despair before disappearing back down to the kitchen. "Nightmare" Holmes assured himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to try and rid himself of the nausea that now swept over him. "Mrs Hudson!" He called, ringing the bell impatiently that led to the kitchen, he'd given her just enough time to get there. "Mr Holmes!?" She appeared again at the door, a nerve in her forehead pulsing. "Get a boy to take a note to Watson" he told her, passing her a quickly scribbled note, she took it and left again.
Holmes got to his feet, moving clumsily across the cluttered untidy room to the nearest desk, pulling strange chemicals and bits of machinery with him as he went.
When Watson arrived in the room, with the messenger boy, Holms was attempting to send an electric wave through a part of his brain, his hair was already standing on end more than usual. "What in Her majesty's name are you doing!?" Watson demanded, as per normal Holms didn't explain except for those hurried ones of assurance "I'll be fine Watson, pay the nice boy would you." Watson and the boy watched agape as Holms flicked the lever on his desk, he shook slightly for a moment his hands gripping to the arms of his chair, before going perfectly still. "Is he dead sir?" The boy asked, worry in his voice, "no" Watson sighed, picking his way over the unconscious dog, that had no doubt as usual suffered Holms' latest experiment first. He took his friend by the shoulder and gave him a small shake, Holmes groaned and opened his eyes, "I think that did it" he nodded at Watson, getting to his feet slowly.
"How did you do that sir?" The boy asked, excitement fresh in his voice, Watson gave them both disapproving looks. "I set the pitch of electricity to match the very same wave length which I wanted to sort out" Holmes grinned, glad that for once someone in the room was actually interested in his work, "with no lasting effects" he finished, making to move only to fall over instead, Watson rolled his eyes, pulling him to his feet. The boy laughed, Holmes smiled, passing him a fair amount of coins definitely a heavy tip, the boy nodded his thanks and ran back down the stairs, he and Watson soon heard the door close behind him. "Nice boy" Holmes commented, turning back to Watson. "Please don't tell me you just called me here to talk too?" Watson sighed, collapsing into a reasonably clear armchair, Holmes pulled a face, Watson hid his head in his hands. "So I leave Mary this morning after promising her we'd have tea at her parent's because you send me a note saying you feel desperately ill, and find out you only want a talk!" Watson snapped, getting back to his feet,
"Not entirely" Holmes assured him "I am feeling unwell that's what I want to talk to you about," Watson sat back down a look of worry and guilt passing his features.
"What's wrong then?" Watson asked quite softly for him, after Mrs Hudson had brought them tea. "Nightmares actually" Holmes sighed, massaging his temple with one hand, "I've tried gypsy rituals, sleeping pills, electric shocks…."
"So that's what that was" Watson interrupted, Holmes gave him a look, Watson fell silent again. "and electric shocks" Holmes carried on "but they keep coming back, the same place, the same people, the same events." Watson faintly heard Holmes mutter something that sounded like "five years" and heisted a guess, "did anything happen around this time, a few years ago maybe?"
"maybe" his friend nodded, again dodging a straight answer, Watson sighed inwardly he obviously wasn't going to get anything from Holmes himself. "How strong are the sleeping pills you've been taking?"
"don't know" Holmes shrugged "but the lady on the street I bought it from said it was enough to knock out a horse," he passed Watson the container of small pills. Watson sniffed them curiously, retracting quickly "they could knock out an elephant let alone a horse!"
"Well then what should I do?" Holmes begged, giving Watson a desperate look that his friend had never seen him show before. "Are they that bad?" Watson asked, pulling out his medical bag, then he paused "how long have you been in here?"
Holmes looked shifty then asked "when did we last go somewhere together?"
"My wedding…Three months ago" Watson reminded him,
"That's right" Holmes remembered "I was best man?" Watson nodded, remembering how displeased Mary had been about that. "Well then" Holmes shrugged "must have been about three months ago."
"I'm fine Watson really!" Holmes begged, clinging to his front door,
"no your not" Watson told him "you need to get out more, I've told you this before." Watson finally succeeded in pulling Holmes into the street, "this is bad for my health" Holmes told him, "as your Doctor and friend I can assure you it will do you the world of good," It seemed Holmes had given up his break back to the house and was now walking along side Watson without having to be dragged. "Where are we going?" He now sounded interested, his eyes darting around as usual, most likely sussing out who was cheating on who, who was gambling where, what unlikely figures had done what and so on. "I'm making it up to Mary and giving you another chance with getting on with her" Watson looked proud of himself, Holmes groaned. "Come on," Watson gave a small smile "it will probably be the first proper meal you've had in three months."
Holmes and Mary sat opposite each other at the table, Watson between them. Holmes played gingerly with the end of his fork, examining the room and people around him. Mary threw glares at him and Watson every now and then before settling into a chat with Watson. "So how were your parents?" Watson checked,
"They were fine, a little disappointed about missing you dear but there's always next time" Mary smiled, Watson gave her a quick peck on the hand in silent thank you for forgiving him. Holmes yawned, it was only then that Watson realised he'd been listening in on their conversation. Watson glared at him, the tension only being broken by the arrival of dinner. They ate in silence neither making much effort to talk to the other.
A scream sounded from outside, a young woman in her early twenties ran into the restaurant. "My friend! Help!" Holmes was on his feet in an instant, pretty much skimming the tables as he ran. He wouldn't follow him, he wouldn't, Watson felt himself repeating this to himself even after he'd taken after Holmes, leaving Mary to enjoy the rest of her meal alone. Once outside he bent down beside the injured girl, pulling his handkerchief out and holding it to her head. "It's not to bad" he told her friend "she's just a little stunned," the other girl nodded thankfully. Holmes had returned mere minuets later, the injured girls handbag to hand. "Sorry about that young lady" he smiled, handing it back to her. "Holmes" the girl smiled suddenly recognising him, "haven't you grown Alice" Holmes noted, helping her up. Holmes suddenly remembered Watson, "Watson this is Alice, I'm friends with her parents, haven't seen her in a while, and Alice this is Watson my loyal friend and Doctor." The two nodded politely at each other.
"Good of you to join me" Mary's voice was cold when they returned,
"my dear lady I can assure you we were doing another young lady a greater good" Holmes addressed her for the first time all evening, Mary's eyes narrowed into slits at him. "Me and Mary will be going now" Watson got to his feet after paying the bill, trying to signal to Holmes to back off quietly, unfortunately Holmes was never very good at that. "I mean were you a young lady I'd rush to your needs too," Mary chucked her glass of wine at him, soaking him completely; he suspected if had they not been in such a busy place she probably would of hit him. "Young!?" She demanded, "how old do I look!?" Watson saw Holmes had noticed his slip,
"obviously not as old as you actually are" he tried, This time Mary did slap him, Watson placed a cautious hand on her back and led her slowly out. Holmes watched them go, then got to his own feet.
"Have I done something wrong!?" Jane demanded, tears streaking her face, her hair matted and eyes bagged with stress. Holmes shrugged, lifting his pipe to his lips. "What ever makes you think that?" He asked, his calm voicing causing her to shiver with more tears. "You lock yourself away in this room constantly, we never go out to dinner anymore, you don't sleep in our bed, we can't even talk!" Jane's voice shook as she listed her accusations, "we're talking now" Holmes pointed out, in a way he thought reasonably enough. "What happened to the way we used to talk and make love?" Jane asked, staring her husband right in the eye, "look at me and tell me you love me" she begged. Holmes sighed, they'd been married five years and still neither had broken out of their twenties, it was true he'd loved her when they'd first met and a little after that, but if he was honest there had been more fun in the chase than there was in the capture. Holmes' silence was not answered well by Jane, "Well what now!?" She sobbed, "a divorce!? Or maybe you'll murder me and hide me away like what happens in those mysteries your always going off with? Why can't we go solve these mysteries together?" Holmes groaned, he hated these conversations,
"I want another guy to help me with those, you know a friend or something, I can't limit my social life to just you."
He didn't open his eyes straight away this time, although this nightmare had been less graphic it frightened him more than any of the others. He became acutely aware of someone knocking on the door, "Holmes!?"
"Come in Watson" he called, sitting up straight in the chair he'd fallen asleep in. His first thoughts when he saw Watson were how unlike Watson he looked; he looked exhausted, his hair almost as bad his and he kept wincing like he had a headache of some sorts. Watson knew his friend well enough to know he hadn't missed these things but chose not to bring them up. "They've found a body down by the butchers,"
"any idea whose?" Holmes began tying his shoes, Watson paused lightly, unsure whether to fill this bit in. "…Your friend's daughter, Alice, the one we helped last night," Holmes' face seemed in momentary shock for a few brief seconds, but it quickly passed, "oh dear" he sighed.
The body was indeed a terrible sight, the moving conveyor that moved the swine along to be burnt and minced had come to a stand still with the corps that jammed the way. The only means of identification they'd found to suggest who she was, was the handbag as so many knew it to of been the one retrieved by Holmes the previous night. "Any idea when it was done?" Holmes asked, turning to Watson, who bent slightly over the body. "About five past twelve last night," Holmes blinked, he was in shock, but not so much as not to be amazed, "how?" He began,
"Her watch shattered in the grinder, it's set at five past twelve" Watson explained. Holmes nodded, allowing his eyes to gather pace round the room. "They were in a rush" Holmes nodded, it was Watson's turn to look amazed, "that glass next to the lever it's positioning shows that the murderer knocked it off as they turned…And look," Holmes bent down amongst the glass, pulling out a sheet. Watson saw him go slightly pale as he read, a nauseating look crossing his eyes, "Five years, Five deaths" he read. "What does it mean Holmes?" Watson asked, peering over his shoulder, to see it for himself. "So then Watson what can you tell from this scene about our murderer?" Holmes asked, dodging the question, Watson stumbled looking round. "They don't like to watch, or do it themselves?" He suggested,
"good guessing" Holmes nodded "but also look at the method; did she die slowly or quickly?"
"Slowly" Watson nodded "so our murderer wanted the victim to suffer before hand?" Holmes nodded, grinning now.
"How's Mary?" Holmes asked slowly, as Watson studied the body, trying to cut it from the jaws of the razor that had sliced through her skin without doing the evidence to much damage. "She's fine, why do you ask?" Watson's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, Holmes nodded, for once realising that he shouldn't press it. "The flames didn't kill her, though they left her unrecognisably burnt and hairless…" Holmes closed his eyes in disgust, not wanting to picture the young girl he'd helped just the other day screaming for a life that was soon to end. "…The Razors finished her off" Watson continued, examining the blades and levels of blood. "It jammed" Holmes sighed, letting out a deep outtake of breath, "she felt the razors cut through her until she was almost half way."
"I'd better be getting back to Mary" Watson sighed when they arrived back at the house, Holmes looked up, "What? Not even going to let me invite you in?"
"I can't" Watson explained,
"But we're solving a case?" Holmes stammered, he'd never been left on his own after a dead body before. "I'll come round early tomorrow" Watson promised, starting back down the steps. Holmes sighed checking the newspaper on the floor of his hall, then froze.
"Watson!" He yelled, rushing from the door and pretty much shoving his friend into the house and slamming the door. "Really Holmes enough is enough!" Watson snapped,
"look!" Holmes ignored him, flinging the paper in his face, Watson straightened it out and read: "Young girl missing, light brown hair, blue eyes, last seen three days ago," Watson studied the picture, "but that's!?"
"I know" Holmes nodded solemnly, glancing at the black and white image of Alice's face,
"but we saw her yesterday!" Watson stammered,
"exactly" Holmes sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, a daunting look spreading across his face. "That other girl I didn't get a look at her what did she look like!?"
"I don't know!" Watson jabbered, sounding slightly hysterical "dark hair…I don't know it was dark!" Holmes seized him by the shoulders,
"remember!" He pressed, Watson felt his friend's nails digging into his shirt,
"She had dark hair, that's all I can remember, and pierced ears." Holmes dropped his grip, panting with a mad sort of look. "That's our murderer"
"who is she?" Watson asked, without another word, Holmes pushed him out the door, back into the street.