Almost 45 hours later, give or take time zones, Irene and Tubbs were safe in Tubbs New York apartment. She was so close to freedom. There had only been one spot of trouble when the border agent in Paris asked Irene what the national sport of Canada was. Leave it to a Frenchmen to not trust a woman with a British accent and a Canadian Passport, or maybe he was just trying to test her.
From New York Irene scoured real-estate websites to find the perfect home to start her new life in. She also went on a shopping spree picking up enough new clothes to start her own store. She picked up a good pair of trainers and several athletic outfits, with the idea of starting jogging. She also signed up for an online massage therapy class. Whatever money she didn't use would go into a savings account as a 'just in case' fund, be damned if she wouldn't make her own way in the world. Legitimately. Four days later they were on the road again. Irene was supposed to have spent a week in New York but another job had come up for Tubbs, one he couldn't refuse.
They did hit one spot of trouble crossing the Maine- New Brunswick border when the man pointed out Irene's drivers licence was due for renewal. She thanked the border agent for his kind reminder and they were on their way again. When they reached Moncton, the last stop before hitting the highway that would bring them to Nova Scotia Tubbs asked her if she wanted to stop here for the night. When he explained that it was only about another three and a half hour drive to her new home Irene said 'go for it.'
Tubbs stopped the car on the other side of the Cobequid Pass in the little town of Amherst he need to refuel both the car and himself. Irene had fallen asleep at some point but woke up to the strong smell of coffee.
"What's that" she asked Tubbs as he got back into the driver's seat of the car.
"Tim's, don't worry, I got you one, and a chocolate glaze to go with."
"What's a Tim's?" It smelled like coffee, "and Chocolate glazed what?" her mind was still foggy with sleep.
"Doughnut" said Tubbs producing the circle of fried dough. "Thought we could use a sugar pick-me-up. I don't know how you like your coffee so I just got you a medium double, double."
Irene had taken a large bite of the doughnut and was thoroughly chewing it when she asked, "double what?"
"Two milk, two sugar, it's easier to say double, double." Tubbs explained; Canadians and their weird language.
When they finally reached Halifax they stayed in a hotel room Irene had booked. Tubbs would be leaving in the morning, driving back to New York without delay; Irene would be staying at the hotel a few more nights while she furniture shopped for her new house.
Irene sat on the bed and looked out at the dark water below her. The city really was right on the water. Maybe she would get a boat, learn how to sail. She couldn't wait to visit the bars and see the sites. She wanted to tour the Citadel and walk along the waterfront. She would go and do the driver's test and get her own car. All of these were great ideas and in time Irene might do them all but there was one thing she had to do first.
One morning after the Baskerville case John went down to fetch the post. Since Sherlock's return from India they had had several interesting cases. First was the Edinburgh case which was so hush-hush John wasn't even allowed to mention it on his blog, but that was okay because then they'd had the Macbeth case, which Sherlock forbade him to write up because they couldn't solve it, but they'd just had the very successful Baskerville case which John did write up so he was in a good mood.
John shuffled through the stack as he ascended the stairs, two envelops were defiantly bills, the third might be an invitation to something, and
"Sherlock we got a post card saying thank-you from the Wilsons, isn't that nice."
Sherlock merely hummed from his seat at the kitchen table.
"And another postcard from, Sherlock, do we know anyone living in Nova Scotia?"
"No."
"To Mr. S Homes" John read aloud, "Thank you again for all your wonderful help. I really like it here, please visit soon. Sincerely, Beatrice A Dare. Your India case?"
"Possibly." Sherlock's mouth had gone dry. Of all the ways for her to let him know she made it there alive she sent a bloody post card.
"P.S." John continued reading, "do you know what the national sport of Canada is? Hockey, isn't it?"
"Wrong."
John blinked for a minute mouth frozen, "what do you mean wrong?"
"Technically it's lacrosse." Sherlock supplied.
"You, who knows nothing about sports, or Canada, knows that Canada's national sport is Lacrosse?" John was genuinely baffled.
"Yes, if don't believe me, go look it up." Sherlock had no patience for this today.
John set down the post and walked up stairs to get his computer. Sherlock waited until John was almost to the top stair before pounding on the card from Irene. On the front was a picture of the 'Old Town Clock' which sat in front of the fort facing the waterfront, across it in bold letter read Greetings from Halifax, Nova Scotia.
Sherlock was still re-reading the cursive on the back, as though it held the secrets of the universe, when John came bounding back down the stairs, "actually they changed it in 1994, Lacrosse is now Canada's official Summer sport, while Hockey is the official Winter sport" like he actually gave a toss. There was something about the way Sherlock was looking at the postcard that made John wonder who this Dare woman was. He had only ever seen one woman have any effect on Sherlock, and John new for a fact she was dead.
"Yes of course." Sherlock said, he sounded like he was a million miles away, on the other side of the Atlantic. Vaguely he wondered what the time difference between London and Halifax was, what was she doing right now, would she be asleep or out at her favourite new restaurant. Had she found someone, maybe a nice girl who had grown up fishing? What was Irene's new personality like? Had she lain low for a while, just relaxing and enjoying the fact she didn't have to work, or had she gotten herself a job just to keep busy and not think about things.
Sherlock had no answers to these questions. He didn't know and if he was lucky they would never see each other again.
Lucky for him, he wasn't lucky.
June 17th:"I'm not dead, let's have dinner."
Thanks for playing along, I really hope you all enjoyed this. now as I promised: for the Cabin Pressure fans, how many episode titles did I list? and Music fans, How many Barenaked Ladies song titles did I manage to squeeze in?
A sequel for this will be coming at some point, I just don't know when. It will be called "When September Ends" and sticking with my (sort of) Shakespeare theme will be loosely based on Much Ado About Nothing. This story also makes reference to my already published fic The World's A Stage. If you like Sherlock and Shakespeare together then you'll love this fic.
Answers are:
CP the correct answer should be 9
BL including the title it should be 6
Thanks again!