Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's little old me Zenappa, or Zenna, or Zenaynay, or basically whatever you wish to call me. So I hope you all enjoyed last chapter, I know I did! Our pal Tiff is just a fabulous writer isn't she? Wonderful work, a round of applause for you my friend! Anyway, this next chapter is from the point of view of Emerald, my character. In this chapter, it picks up where the last one left off and you begin to see just what's happened to these girls. This is going to be a wonderful story and I'm looking forward to many more adventures! :D Enjoy! Oh and don't forget to review!
Disclaimer: We don't own Sherlock Holmes, Pirates of the Caribbean, Pride and Prejudice or basically anything else that we mention lol. I, Zenappa, own Emerald Maitland, Tiff (A Pirate by Any Other Name) owns Rose, and The Sock That Never Stays Orange owns Ophelia. K? Cool. And we all own the amazingly awesome plotline. Yep, I think that's it! :D
A Bond Never Broken
Chapter 2: Darkness
From the moment that Rose touched the painting, I knew that our lives were about to be changed forever. I knew that something was bound to happen that would alter the very fabric of the human nature. I knew that we were no longer going to be the same. Actually, it all started when Rose stumbled upon the painting room in the old house. It's always Rose causing all the trouble, naturally. But this time, I actually might have to thank her for what she's done.
Darkness.
That's what I awoke to some hours later. I attempted to sit up, my mind spinning wildly. I held my head for a moment before all of the memories came flooding back into my brain. I groaned and collapsed on the ground again. The last thing I remembered was the three of us getting pulled in separate directions, almost seemingly through the paintings. My eyes blinked and adjusted to the sudden darkness of the sky. When had it gotten so dark out? How long was I out? As much as I wanted to get up and check if Ophelia and Rose were alright, I was feeling pretty stuck. I really didn't want to move, my whole body ached like I was just launched off the side of a bridge and run over by a semi-truck when in all probability, we just hit our heads on the paintings and blacked out.
Assuming was my first mistake.
I groaned and rolled over on my other side, trying to wake myself up enough to check on the others. Even though I wasn't the oldest or I didn't act like the oldest, I felt a responsibility over these girls. They were my best friends and if anything ever happened to them, I honestly don't know what I'd do. Finally opening my eyes completely, I blinked heavily, expecting to see Rose or Ophelia lying next to me in the same position I was. My ears buzzed with unexpected sounds, as if I wasn't hearing anything before, and a loud screech sounded by my ear. I rolled back on my original side, ready to call off Ophelia for making her annoying animal noises again, but she wasn't there. Frowning, I glanced upwards and screamed. A horse was standing over me, its hooves clomping in my ear, and I immediately jumped to my feet.
"Sorry!" I called to whoever was yelling at me and the horse passed, followed by a carriage it was pulling. I frowned, why use a carriage when you could just grab a taxi? I shook my head, now fully awake and it was then that I realized that I wasn't in the abandoned house anymore. What I thought was the cold hardwood floor of the painting room was actually a cobblestone street! I breathed in and out heavily and leaned against a nearby telephone booth for support. I took a double take; a telephone booth? Where the hell was I?
Taking a step back, I examined my surroundings for the first time and what I found frightened me. While it certainly looked like London, it wasn't the London that I knew. Instead of skyscrapers, big shopping centers and cars, there were little boutiques on the corners of streets, horses and buggies to pull people around and the tallest building that I could see for miles was a bridge in the distance.
"Rose?" I called, spinning around myself, looking for my friends. "Ophelia? This isn't funny!"
Wherever my friends were, they weren't responding and this scared me. Normally, I was the prankster of the bunch and I seriously doubted that they would want to scare me this badly. We just wouldn't do that to each other… Which only meant one thing: I was alone.
Being alone was one of my worst fears, along with spiders naturally. Every step of my life, I always had someone there with me. Whether it be my mother or my best friend, someone was always there for me, ready to catch me if I fell. Now, I had no one and that was the scariest feeling in the world. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. No service. Just peachy, I thought and moved away from the telephone booth as someone stepped in. I glanced at the man and almost fell over in surprise. This man looked so familiar and yet - it couldn't be, could it?
I examined what he was wearing and my notions in my head dwindled. This wasn't some fairytale story, this was real life! But suddenly, I wasn't so sure anymore. I looked the man up and down and my mind started churning like it did when I was solving a case for my Criminal studies. He was wearing a gray coat with a white collared shirt underneath it and what looked like a black tie but I couldn't get any closer without making it seem like I was scrutinizing him, which indeed I was. His gray pants and black shoes matched perfectly with his coat and tie which made me think that he was well brought up but the one thing that threw me off completely was his waistcoat. He was wearing a waistcoat.
I stumbled backwards, smacking into a person behind who just grumbled to watch it and headed in the opposite direction. I didn't even notice that I had hit a person either, all I knew was one thing. In the telephone booth, standing in front of me, was someone who looked exactly like Jude Law.
Was I somehow in Los Angeles? Was this part of-
My mind trailed off and I got that dreamy look over my eyes as I usually did when I was thinking about Sherlock Holmes. That had to be the solution! I was on the Sherlock Holmes 3 set! I didn't know that they had already started filming! I frowned, the main question to be concerned with however was how I got here. I glanced over at Jude Law who was still muttering into the telephone and heaved a deep sigh, reflecting on what had happened right before I blacked out.
"Uh guys?" Rose squirmed as she touched the painting. I glanced over at my friend and blinked heavily. It almost seemed like her hand was going through the painting! I frowned from where I was admiring the painting of an old-fashioned London town. It seemed so real and lifelike, I didn't blame Rose for wanting to touch them. But I had stuck to my guns and known that something wasn't quite right. Call me crazy but there was something in the air that I just couldn't understand. My friends called it the "Sherlock" inside my brain doing the talking which is what probably attracted me to the painting of none other than 221b Baker Street. Whoever had painted these must have been so talented, I almost wanted to meet them and request a painting of my own.
I opened my mouth to say something back to Rose but a squeal from the opposite side of the room cut me off. I glanced over my shoulder to see Ophelia cocking her head and scrutinizing every inch of the countryside painting she was adoring. I rolled my eyes, she was probably just realizing something that the painting had to do with Pride and Prejudice or something like that. I sighed, thoroughly annoyed and took a step away from the painting. Or, I tried to.
A sudden pain in my chest made me almost double over in pain and it felt like my heart was on fire. I gasped for air and reached into my jacket, shedding it off in an attempt to get rid of the burning sensation. A loud clanking noise sounded and I looked around at my friends but they didn't seem to notice. They were way too enthralled in their own paintings to even notice that something was wrong. I bent down to pick up whatever fell and I took a quick intake of breath.
It was the magnifying glass.
As I slipped my hands around the handle, my hands burned with the same sensation that my chest did before. As much as it hurt, I didn't want to let go, for fear that something worse would happen.
A more panicked cry came from Rose as she started slipping into the painting. I frowned and turned to Ophelia, sure I was imagining the entire thing. But as I glanced over at my red haired friend, she too seemed to be falling into the painting. I blinked heavily, what was in my punch this morning? But then a dragging sensation came over me and I knew that this was somehow real. I just knew that there was something wrong with this room and now it was all coming true. The last thing I remembered was glancing into Rose's equally panicked face before losing consciousness completely.
A loud clicking noise shook me out of my reverie and I glanced upward to see Jude Law or his impersonator stepping out of the telephone booth. This couldn't be real could it? I couldn't have actually fallen through the painting; I obviously just bashed my head against the wall and blacked out. But how did I get to Los Angeles? That was the real question. Was I kidnapped? Did I go there voluntarily and I just couldn't remember? If so, that was pretty frightening. I hissed as I snapped back to reality. Well, there was only one way to find answers.
I had to follow Jude Law.
He didn't seem like a very suspicious man, he kept in character as the Doctor John Watson we all know and love and didn't falter for an instant. He was a better actor than I presumed! I followed him down the streets, or what was built to look like the streets of London. I, for one, knew better. Why else would it seem like the 1800s when it clearly was not? Why else would Jude Law be dressed in character as Watson and acting like him? The only thing I was looking forward to, other than figuring out the mystery and returning home of course, was seeing Robert Downey Jr. I hoped he was on set today, that would be the best thing in the world. I almost squealed with delight, blowing my cover and I grabbed a large hat and placed it strategically over my head. The rest of my face was shielded and I smiled a tiny smile for the first time since I got here. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
As Jude kept walking, I followed him from a distance in case he was to look back and see him stalking him. That would be embarrassing and I'm pretty sure that my being here wasn't in the script. I tried to stay unnoticed but I couldn't help but admire the wonderful paintings and sets in the Sherlock Holmes world. They were amazing and so lifelike; I had to remember to appreciate the sets in movies more from now on. After for what seemed like miles and miles of just walking down the "London" streets, Jude stopped in front of a familiar looking building. I gasped inwardly and then hid myself from view, hoping I didn't give myself away. For this very building was none other than the famous 221b Baker Street.
I bit my lip in apprehension as I watched Jude bang on the door loudly.
"Holmes?" he shouted, clearly annoyed by something.
There was dead silence before Jude dug into his pockets, emerged with an old-fashioned looking key, and placed it into the key hole. It turned effortlessly and I smirked, knowing Watson wouldn't have the sense to return the key in situations like this. I stood there, just watching curiously, as Jude disappeared inside, leaving me alone outside. I knew I probably looked like a lunatic but I couldn't help myself, it was just too grand and beautiful not to stare. I was just waiting for the director to yell cut and move onto the next scene but to my surprise, nothing happened. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary like that had happened since I arrived here, awakened on the street.
Something wasn't right.
"You're quite right," a voice came from behind me, making me jump and turn around in apprehension. I hadn't realized I voiced my opinions aloud.
When I saw who the man was, I almost fell over and died right then and there on the spot. Yes, standing in front of me, addressing me like I was just another girl on the busy streets of London, was Robert Downey Jr.
I looked from side to side before I realized that the famous actor was actually talking to me.
"Oh my God," I managed to spit out. "You're - you're - you're Robert Downey Jr."
Rob frowned, "Well I don't know who this Downey character is, but I'm certainly not him. My name is Sherlock Holmes."
I raised an eyebrow cautiously, attempting to catch my breath and speak normally, not like some crazed fan that I obviously was on the inside. "Yes I know you're playing Sherlock Holmes right now," I said. "But in real life, off the set I mean, you're the actor Robert Downey Jr."
Rob shook his head; he was obviously sticking with his act. I shrugged my shoulders, I didn't know he was one of those actors. Whatever he wanted to do and say wasn't my business, just him standing in front of me right now was all I needed. I could die happy now…
Shaking me out of my fan-crazed thoughts, Rob spoke to me directly again and I tried my best to stay calm the second time. "What are you doing here in front of my house?" he questioned.
"I honestly don't know."
"Why were you following Doctor Watson here?" Rob just wouldn't let up with the questions.
"I needed answers!" I demanded, throwing my hands up in the air.
"Answers to what exactly?"
"Why I'm here, why you and Jude are acting this way, why nothing is making sense!" I just simply couldn't take it anymore so I collapsed on the doorstep and put my head in my hands.
Rob stood there for a moment before sighing and taking a seat next to me. I could tell he was acting awkward and frozen almost around me which made me suspicious. Why was he acting this way? He's an actor; he should be able to handle anything!
"Is there anything I can help with?" Rob asked me curiously and I could tell that he meant well, it just wasn't working out the same way that I hoped.
"Not really."
"I am a master detective after all," he commented, smirking in my direction. "The best consulting detective there is!"
"You're the only consulting detective there is," I pointed out with a smile, lifting my head up.
He leaned back, holding his hands to his chest like he was wounded. I laughed, this seemed less like the Sherlock in him and more like the actor.
"Would you like to come inside and maybe then we can talk about your case?" he offered and I nodded slowly. Maybe he was confused…
"Of course I would love to 'come inside,'" I made air quotes with my hands. "But you do know that it's just a set right. It doesn't really exist."
"Your language confuses me," Rob pointed out, wrinkling his forehead. "Of course my apartment is real, you can see it right there."
"But when we walk inside, it won't be real," I promised, standing up. I was determined to prove Rob wrong, that's definitely not something you can do every day.
I opened the door which Jude had left unlocked and stepped into the grand foyer. I froze in my spot, appalled at the sight that greeted me. I was expecting to see cameras and lights and crew everywhere, setting up the next scene. Even if that's not what was there, this was not what I was expecting at all. What I saw was a full apartment with no flaws whatsoever which could only mean one thing.
This wasn't a set. This was all real.
I was in the middle of the Sherlock Holmes universe.
I stood there, frozen in place like a statue. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say, everything just seemed to freeze or move in slow motion. I barely heard movement behind me, signaling that Rob was entering the apartment behind me. Except he wasn't Rob, he was actually Sherlock Holmes.
"Oh my God," I felt faint and collapsed to my knees for the second time that day, holding a hand to my head. "This is not happening."
"Are you alright?" came a worried voice from behind me and I couldn't breathe or talk or do anything except think of how this could even be possible.
"WATSON!" he bellowed from behind me and I heard hurried footsteps pounding down the stairs to stand next to me.
"Who is this?" the person that I presumed to be Jude Law knelt next to me. But he wasn't Jude Law after all, he was the real thing. He was Doctor John Watson. This was so hard to grasp, I just simply couldn't do it anymore.
"Some girl who followed you home and was spitting stories about us," Rob - er Sherlock said from behind me.
"Really?" Watson cocked an eyebrow at his old friend. "What kind of stories?"
"Like how this wasn't real and how we weren't really ourselves, it was quite bizarre actually. Can you take a look at her? I fear she may be delusional."
With that statement, I snapped myself back to reality and clambered to my feet. "I am most certainly not delusional!"
"Well that worked," Holmes smirked, stepping away from the doorway.
"So you really are Sherlock Holmes," I whispered, shaking my head. This was going to take some getting used to. "And Doctor John Watson."
Watson bent and kissed my hand like a proper Englishman would, "Pleasure to meet you Miss… Uh Miss.."
"Miss Maitland," I smiled a true smile at Watson, he seemed like the kind of guy that I would instantly get along with. "Emerald Maitland at your service."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Watson repeated, straightening up and turning to Holmes. Holmes coughed and nodded to me; I noticed how uncomfortable things had gotten between us since I entered the apartment.
"I would say the same to the both of you," I replied and glanced around the room, looking for something to do or say.
"So can either of you help me how to get back home?" I questioned.
They both looked at me like I was crazy and I sighed; this was going to be harder than I thought. Getting home seemed like the top priority at the moment but now, I wasn't so sure if I wanted to leave.
A knock at the door interrupted all of us and I jumped, not so sure whether anything was going to happen or not happen anymore. Everything was just confusing and overwhelming at the moment and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. Holmes, who was the closest to the door, stepped over and slowly opened it. A familiar looking man was there but Holmes was shielding most of his face so I couldn't make out much. I frowned, something wasn't right.
"Hello Mr. Holmes," the man said with a smirk and then pulled out his gun and fired.
