girlwithwings: ... Renalock? ... I like it :]

Shnitzel: I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN! I was surprised when I wrote it. I was like; WOW! Did I just do that? That's so friggen cute... And yes, I too like Edward. Perhaps because in my mind he is Henry Cavill and how can you not like that? But you're absolutely right. They just met at the wrong time.

:D Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I'm glad you liked this chapter, so did I. :) HolmesxAdkins rules. And, I'm sorry for all of you who like Irene better. Don't worry... stuff will happen. *rubs hands evilly together* MUAHAHAHAHA!

Now. On with the show.

Infinite X's and O's,

mistro

~.~.~.~.~

I awoke up the next morning to... no one.

This realization should have been expected, but after sleeping so well I had expected Holmes to do the same. I had obviously expected wrong. Then again, that wasn't uncommon for me.

Groaning, I rolled over to look at the clock.

Bad decision.

It was noon and I was still sleeping. My mother was probably having a heart attack and on top of it, Holmes and Watson were no where in sight. I grunted, flopping back down on my pillow. Maybe an extra hour or two of sleep wouldn't hurt. They'd already kept me here for this long, right?

My eyes were closing shut and my vision was starting to travel to much more pleasant things rather than the hour hand of the clock. I smiled to myself, pulling the covers tighter around my neck, enjoying the softness of the bed. Holmes must have cracked open the window, because I could hear the clomping of horse hooves as well as the feel of an upcoming spring breeze. And yet, it was a sad reminder that I should probably get out of bed.

Using as much effort as I could muster up, I crawled out of the bed and drug myself over to get my clothes. Only, the tight yellow dress my mother had picked out for me had replaced by something entirely different.

It was a deep blue, with silver lace around the neck and sleeves. My eyes were probably sparkling if someone where to have caught them. The dress was... Simple but elegant, and in my fawning, I couldn't help but to imagine what it would look like on me.

My eyes darted around the room. Why did I have to imagine? No one was around. Would there be any harm in trying it on? I didn't think so.

I carefully scooped up the dress in my arms, sliding it on. I had always been the kind of girl who was afraid of mirrors, but I decided that today would be an exception. I stepped out in front of one, a small smile forming on my face when I saw my reflection.

It wasn't quite terrible at all, surprisingly. It brought out my eyes, that was certain. I spun around a few times, getting the feel of it. For once, I found myself liking a dress. I couldn't recall the last time I had done so.

The door flung open behind me, and without turning around I knew who it was by the loud hits of heels against the wooden floor. I sighed heavily, shutting my eyes. "Hello Irene," I mumbled, turning around with a fake smile on my face. She stopped at the sight of me in the dress, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"I see you like my dress."

I could have died! Her dress? What did she mean her dress? That dress was set out perfectly for me to wear. Right next to my other one. And it hadn't been there last night. And Irene hadn't come by this morning to set it there.

"I stopped by this morning and set it there," she replied with a small smirk on her face. My heart could have shattered. "I'm actually very glad you like it though. It was much too small for me, so I figured it would be just your size."

"Are you telling me that you were giving it to me?" I asked, confused. One minute she was nice, the next she wasn't. "Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Didn't I tell you?" She puckered her lips, cocking her head to the side. "It didn't fit me anymore."

"Yes, but why would you give it to me?"

She blinked a few times, obviously surprised by my question. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I can see us being friends," she said as I flinched a little bit. Friends? What did I know about being friends with a woman, let alone Irene Adler? "I really do feel bad about the way I've been acting, but I've been getting this feeling that you have not quite warmed up to me yet."

"No." I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Sometimes we just can't help it if we don't get along with someone." Hearing myself, I couldn't believe it was me. For some reason, the topic of our friendship was a very touchy subject for me. I couldn't be sure if I liked the idea or not.

In my mind, all she wanted was Holmes. So, why was she trying to keep me in the picture? I scoffed.

Women.

"Oh," Irene said bluntly. "I see." Tension suddenly grew. I stared at her pretty face, surprised to see it look rather disappointed. What if she really did want to be companions? How would I ever know if I never tried? I would only feel worse if she was being truthful.

"Irene," I sighed heavily. "I love the dress. And you're right; we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I don't dislike you. I felt quite the opposite actually. And, I would love to be... friends. With you."

Her face light up instantly. "Then come with me. We've got a lot of work to do. Something scandalous has happened today."

That took me right out of my previous mindset. "What is it?" I asked nervously. "What's happened?"

"Well, we waited overnight for Watson to come and look at the gentleman who had been killed, and when we got there this morning... he was awake."

~.~.~.~.~

"I just remember feeling numb. There was a large silence. I could see mouths moving and instruments being played, but I could hear nothing. It wasn't until shortly afterwards that I felt my eyes open, but everything around me turned black. I couldn't even hear my heart thumping."

Watson scribbled down notes like wildfire. Mary was there today, supporting him, though I could tell she was nervous and slightly out of her comfort zone. In an attempt to get away from Irene's confusing personality, I stood next to her. She offered me a smile, placing her hand on my shoulder. She knew I was offering her some ease.

"It's a bit shocking, isn't it?" I whispered to her as the man continued to talk. She nodded, rolling her eyes. "I don't know how they stand it every week either."

The victim was a Colonel. Colonel Ellis. He had traveled all over the world, his favourite countries being Spain and India. He claimed it was because he wanted to help the less fortunate. Not out of coincidence, but I noticed how similar his goals were to the boy in the country home. This was not surprising. A murderer who hated good.

"Well, I have a theory," Watson sighed, setting down his paper. "There is a poison made from blood of a fish. It's often called black magic poison, but the latin term is tetrodotoxin." We all looked at him with blank eyes. "It paralyzes you. However, if one takes too much it can be deadly."

"I didn't drink all of my wine," Colonel Ellis murmured beneath his breath. "Could it be possible that I only went numb?" He scratched his fat chin, somewhat intrigued with the murder planned upon him. "Fascinating."

He might have found it fascinating, but I recalled something possibly vital.

I didn't know what to think when it had first popped into my head, but the more I stayed silent and thought about it, the more sick the idea got, and the more sick I began to feel. Mary had noticed. She wrapped her arm around mine, her eyes sincere. "Rena, are you alright?"

"Caldwell," I said loudly, grabbing everyone's attention. "Caldwell might not have been dead." Everyone froze, looking at one another. "We found no evidence of any poison in his room or the well. How will we know if he was drugged?"

"Did you perform an autopsy?" Irene questioned Watson.

"He was dead," Watson said quite angrily. "I will not be accused of that again. His parents would not allow an autopsy. I mentioned numerous times that it would be for the good of humanity, but they would not have it." He shouted, but we could all tell he was nervous. What I said was plausible. He could have seemed dead. His pulse could have stopped from the poison. For all we knew, he was scratching at his coffin as we spoke.

"No one breathe a word," Irene said calmly. "We might be overreacting. And, I'm afraid to admit that if we are correct in our assumptions, it would be too late for him now." All of us grew quiet. That poor, beautiful young boy was dead now, whatever the previous incident might have been.

"It seems we're in need of a new system," Holmes grumbled, sticking a pipe into his mouth. "Come Miss Adler. Miss Adkins," he said, finally looking up to see me. He was about to walk away, but stopped short. His eyes were fixed upon my outfit which for once wasn't rags. I could see his statuesque composure begin to falter as he stared at me. "Miss Adkins," he said slowly, trying to compose himself. "Where did you find that dress?"

Irene hadn't seemed to notice the way we were looking at one another. I was thankful for this. "Isn't it marvelous?" She gawked. "I got it in New York. I could tell it would look smashing on her once I realized it did the complete opposite on me."

Holmes said nothing. He looked at me once more and then left, leaving Irene and I alone. "Here," Mary whispered beneath her breath to me. She slipped a handkerchief in my hand. "In case you need to clean up his drool."

~.~.~.~.~

None of us were walking together. Holmes was feet ahead of us, his cane glimmering and easy to spot. I was second, standing nervously a few feet behind him. He was back to his normal, pre-occupied self in mere seconds. I couldn't blame him. It was his job. Unless of course, he was too nervous to face me.

And finally, Irene trailed behind me, humming and seemingly happy. Was it part of her plan? Did she even have a plan? I felt obliged to stop and talk with her because of her kind deeds, but my feet would not let me.

My feet, and Edward that is.

"Renadale?" I heard someone ask as I passed a bakery. I stopped walking instantly, turning to find Edward holding a bag of petite fours. "It's so lovely to see you again!" Edward said softly with a charming smile.

Pathetically, I melted.

I wanted to clutch at my chest to make it stop beating. Why was I doing this to myself?

And worst of all, why was I doing it to Holmes?

Irene could tell by the way I looked at him that I was affected in some way. It was no surprise that she wanted in on the action. "Good morning. I'm Irene," She said, offering her hand. Edward merely nodded, his hands already full. "I'm working on the case with Renadale."

"She's my friend. From America."

"America?" Edward said, his brows raising. Wait, what was that look? Why did he look at her like that? "What do you do in America, Miss Adler?"

She smiled sweetly, a mere attempt that I decided to view as modest. "I was a singer." I expected the conversation to continue on further, but Edward smiled and nodded his head, his attention soon finding it's way back to me.

"I was upset to see you go last night. I was hoping that I could have talked to you more." His soft cheeks flushed a shade of pink. "I never got the chance to tell you how lovely you looked, but I can tell you now." Now it was my turn for my cheeks to turn rosy. "At any rate, I was on my way to the police. I wanted to ask what had happened to Colonel Ellis."

"He was temporarily paralyzed," I explained quickly, hoping to calm his nerves. "He could have been killed if he would have drunk all of the wine."

Edward's blue eyes grew wide. His face dropped and I had sensed his fear. Of course he didn't like the idea of an attempted assassination in his own home. I did not blame him. I wouldn't be a huge fan of the idea either. "Well, I'm very glad he's alright now."

"Yes, we all are." I said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. He looked down at it with those blue eyes, his hands too full for him to return the gesture. I didn't mind. I just wanted him to know that it would be alright.

There was a long pause. Edward and I simply stared at one another. I could feel the presence of Irene on my left, watching us. However, I hadn't realized Holmes was directly on the right of me. "Time really is an inconsistent thing to waste, yes?" Holmes's voice interrupted our stares.

"What?" I said, still in a bit of a daze. I turned towards him, realizing that I had forgotten about the case for a moment. He seemed unaffected, his professional face painted on. I looked at him a bit longer than I should have though and I caught his hidden sadness.

I really was horrible when it came to dealing with people.

"Oh yes," I sighed. "I'm so sorry to cut the conversation short, but we're in the middle of the case and we shouldn't be wasting any time whatsoever."

Edward smiled. "Of course not. I will see you again. I apologize, Mister Holmes, for taking up your time." He politely nodded towards all of us. "Good afternoon." He paused, a small smile directing itself towards me. "Good afternoon, Miss Adkins."

We all watched him walk away and before I could say anything Irene had beaten me to the case. "What on Earth!" She laughed, trying to catch up with me as I began to walk further away from them. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. "That was quite romantic, wasn't it? Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"I have little to say on the matter."

"Well perhaps you don't have much to say, but I can tell what you wanted to say."

"I promise that you don't know what I wanted to say."

"What's wrong? There's nothing wrong with that boy." I heard Holmes grunt in amusement. "He's absolutely perfect and he's obviously mad for you."

"That might be the case," I said, shrugging and walking even faster. "Yet, I cannot say the same for him." My eyes caught Holmes for a moment, but he was staring at the ground. However, I wanted him to hear me. I wanted him to look at me so that he would be reassured. After the previous evening, I wasn't going to let him think he was just leaving my mind so soon. That had already happened. I wasn't planning on it happening again. "It seems as though my heart has already been taken."

Holmes stopped walking for a second, his eyes wider than normal. Irene wrinkled her brows, glancing back at him. "Holmes, what are you doing? Pausing is ineffective, don't you think?"

"No," he muttered. "We're here." Irene and I looked at one another in confusion.

"Holmes," I said. "We're at a pub."

He hesitated, and then turned to see that indeed, that was where we were. "Yes, I realize this." He scratched his chin. "For a moment, I figured I needed a drink." He mumbled something else beneath his breath, but then kept walking past us in a blur.

Irene sighed heavily once he was out of hearing distance. "I truly don't understand him. It's remarkable, don't you think? The way he acts. It's as though he plays multiple characters when it's really just him the whole time."

As strange and slightly upsetting that it was for her to know so much about him, she was right. Sherlock Holmes was known as the enigma of my mind.

"Where are we going?" I tried to change the subject.

Irene playfully smirked towards me, her deep red lips spreading into an even smile. "You don't know?" I said nothing, hoping she would catch my drift. "Well. If I assume correctly, which I'm certain I am, we will wait at a small pub of some sort closer to our destination and when things get more busy we'll head on in."

"Head on in?" I repeated. "Into where?"

She winked towards me. "The shrews."

~.~.~.~.~

Being friends with detectives ruins all of the fun. Irene was right. We were all at a local restaurant, Holmes obviously uncomfortable as ever. He fiddled with his fork, stacking it on top of the spoon and then picking it up and doing it all over again. Irene grunted, eventually taking both of them from him. "Must you do that?" Holmes blinked a few times, staring down at his empty plate. I eyed him carefully, waiting to see what he would do next. Carefully, he picked up the knife, balancing it on the rim of his glass. I couldn't help but to let a giggle be released as Irene snatched that from him as well. "Honestly?" She scoffed, setting it down with his other utensils.

We smiled towards one another as I laughed at his playful manner. Now that I was finding him amusing, I felt the stress of the case suddenly fly from my shoulders.

And then I remembered that we were going to see prostitutes and it all came flooding back.

Irene stood up from the table, excusing herself. "Make sure that he doesn't touch those," she said, pointing to his table utensils. "If my caviar comes before I do, don't touch that either." She smiled as she walked away, but I could tell that she was serious about her fish eggs.

I laughed at it all, trying to ignore her brash attitude and rather enjoy it. "She certainly lights up the room."

Holmes smiled towards me, taking a silent sip of his water. Neither of us said anything for a while, before Holmes decided to take action this time. "Mister Brettingham-"

"No," I stated bluntly. I knew what he was getting at. "No."

Slowly, he nodded, sipping his water again. By deduction, his mouth was possibly growing dry by possibility of nerves or the inability to sit still when around a human being of mutual relations. "No?" He questioned, setting his glass down. I shook my head. "Perhaps that might seem the case as things are moving now, however-"

"No, Holmes." I said, offering him a smile. "I care about you."

Irene had walked back just in time, sitting down with a heavy sigh. Her caviar had come a few moments ago, and she happily began to eat it. I took a small piece of bread from the basket, not entirely hungry any more. I could feel his eyes on me, but my heart was more scared to look up than my eyes. "Holmes?" I heard Irene say. "Are you alright?"

My protective side brought my eyes to jolt upwards. He was staring at me, his cup still tightly grasped in his hand. I figured by now he would be a bit more used to me saying those things, but it was obvious that he was not. How many times had a woman said those things to him? I had never said anything like that to any man before in my life, and if my heart was racing just by saying them, I was surprised his heart wasn't exploding by hearing them.

"All to pieces," he said, giving her a quick and obviously balderdash.

"All to pieces?" She said, raising her brow and taking another bite of her food. Her eyes shifted back between the two of us. She was suspecting something. "If you say so, Sherlock. After all, you are the detective."

~.~.~.~

The woman who ran the place loved to keep things quiet. It took a lot of effort to convince her that we were not arresting her and that we were not going to tell the police that we were here, and that we were not in fact a part of the police at all. Technically, we weren't. Holmes did not want to associate himself with Lestrade if he could avoid it.

"Come in," she whispered, pulling us in quickly. "Follow me." She began leading us down a hallway with red velvet pinned to the walls. Every time we passed a staircase, a young and beautiful girl at the top would smile and wave, a couple of them even complimenting our clothes.

Irene and I were overall friendly. Perhaps it was a woman thing. I could see that these women were struggling. Holmes took no notice of them, strictly coming on business.

We followed the owner into her office as she slammed the door behind us. "Why are you here?" She said coldly. "I barely trust you, so don't consider lying as an option."

"We need to know if a young boy by the name of Caldwell ever came around here." Irene demanded.

The woman sat down at her desk, narrowing her eyes and staring us down. "You're joking me, yes? I wouldn't know. Only my girls would know. I've gotten no bad reports about a Caldwell as far as I can remember."

"Is it alright if we talk to the girls then?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

Her eyes narrowed even more towards me. "I'll ask them," she scoffed. "Wait here."

And so we did. Irene hummed again, while I leaned against the wall closing my eyes. A window was open and a violin soloist outside on the street could be heard playing through it. "Adagio con moto," Holmes mumbled, as he leaned against the wall next to me. "Mozart. B flat."

I raised my brows, offering a small smile. Irene mocked my motions as well. Impressive, as always. And for once, I could look at him without him noticing. So, I took my sweet time, smiling and looking at his face. His eyes darker than normal. That was probably my fault for keeping him awake. Despite this, I found his calm nature quite charming.

Honestly? He was possibly the most charming man I'd ever seen. I know I didn't speak with many men in my life, but out of all the ones that I had, I wouldn't be lying when I said he was positively wonderful.

The woman suddenly came back into the room. "A few of them knew him and a few of them didn't."

"And?" I asked.

"He never paid any of them," she said, rolling her eyes. "They said he was a charming young boy, probably just out of school. Whenever he came he wanted to talk to them. They said he was their friend. Someone they could tell anything to and he wouldn't judge them for it. Like a priest, but more twisted." The woman grunted, flopping back down in her chair. "Obviously I had no idea about this or I would have kicked him out of here. Most of my girls said he made them happier about themselves."

A sinking feeling arose in my stomach at these words. Maybe what I needed was a Caldwell man. If he could make a prostitute feel good about herself, I'm sure he could have done wonders with my self esteem.

"Was there anything about a Colonel Ellis?" Irene asked, hoping that we might get some more information.

The woman paused for a long while, churning up memories. "You know what? I believe there was. He never was a customer either. He would spend time with the girl's children outside on the street. He'd buy them things like candy and what not. I would often come out of the place and see him just talking to lazy old goons like us." She sighed, shaking her head back and forth. "I still don't get why he did it."

So, they had both been here. Perhaps the murderer was around the area. Regardless, we didn't have enough evidence yet. She did give us more than what we had before, and being an amateur detective, I was starting to learn that was better than nothing.