Hi everyone who is still reading this! I am soooo sorry for the lack of updates, but life has been manic lately and Christmas is fast approaching! If this is my last update before Christmas I just want to say I hope you all have a fantastic Christmas and a wonderful New Year and I will see you all in 2008! Loads of Love and gratitude for reading, Music97 xxx
Chapter Seven.
The wind was cold and the ground covered in a blanket of snow as John Watson awoke from a deep sleep, he glanced over to Holmes' bed to see it had been slept in but was now empty. Sitting up, Watson rubbed his eyes and felt a chill sweep over him. He quickly dressed and pulled aside the curtains of his room to glance at the snowy street outside, deciding it would be better to stay inside, he closed the curtains again. As he did so the door was flung open and Holmes appeared, red faced and breathless.
"It's a cold one Watson," Holmes remarked, taking off his gloves and hat and throwing them on the bed.
"Yes, I can see. You seem in a remarkably good mood." Watson remarked with a smile, as Holmes' mood as of late had been temperamental to say the least.
"Well, things are finally coming together old man, finally!" Holmes clapped his hands together and walked over to the window, "Ha! He is there like I knew he would be."
Watson followed him over to the window and looked over his shoulder at the man on the opposite side of the street, who was gazing nonchalantly at their window.
"Who is he?" Watson asked.
"Nobody of any importance; just a pawn in a much bigger game. He's been sent to watch me." Holmes did not seem perturbed by the fact he was being watched, even Watson had grown used to being observed by the criminal underworld, it came with being friends with Holmes. Holmes let the curtain fall back into place and sat on the edge of his unmade bed.
"You are being noticed then, all that socialising worked." Watson smiled as his friend cringed at the memory of all those dances.
"Yes…"Holmes said slowly, "Although a part of me wonders whether it was worth it, still it did what was required. He noticed me Watson, and his lackey out there is the first sign of it. I'm not sure if he just wants to keep an eye on me or if he knows about Irene."
It was the first time he had mentioned her since they had arrived and at her name, his eyes glazed over slightly and his body tensed, however the display of emotion was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and Holmes relaxed.
"What are you going to do?" Watson asked quietly.
"I'm not sure. Wait and see I suppose, there's not an awful lot else I can do."
Watson frowned, it was not like Holmes to just sit and wait, still this was no ordinary case.
"You know who he is then? The man who…wronged Irene?"
"Yes, I know him. I don't know how powerful he is, but I know he's responsible for a great deal of crime in this city." Holmes lay back on his bed and stared passively at the ceiling.
A knock came from the door; Holmes glanced sideways and shouted,
"Come in!"
A young girl of about twenty opened the door, the maid.
"Shall I come back sir?" She said, in a sweet American voice, glancing shyly at Holmes' figure sprawled on the bed. Holmes sat up and sighed,
"No, we're going out now." Holmes took his coat and hat from the bed and put them back on, Watson followed his lead. The girl slowly edged her way into the room, Holmes smiled briefly at her as he passed. Watson did the same and the girl blushed. As they descended the stairs, Holmes laughed silently.
"Something amusing Holmes?" Watson asked.
"She's taken a shine to you Watson."
"Honestly Holmes."
Holmes laughed as he followed Watson to the street below, then linked his arm in his as they walked into the busy city. Following close behind was the man they had seen earlier. Holmes was aware of it and glanced quickly over his shoulder, good, that was what he wanted; to be followed. He glanced at Watson, oblivious of the danger they were in. Holmes could feel his revolver in his pocket and it comforted him. He led Watson down a side street and paused. The man was nowhere to be seen.
"Watson, I need you to do something for me." Holmes' voice was urgent and he grasped Watson's arm.
"Anything Holmes you know that."
"We are being followed, I need you to get to man called Michael McCrawley, he lives at this address and he is expecting you."
Watson took the piece of paper that Holmes had offered him.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to deal with our friend." Holmes relaxed his grip on Watson's arm and glanced to the end of the street.
"Holmes…"
"Go Watson, and make sure you are not followed, I will follow you," seeing Watson's distressed look, he added, "I promise. Now go!"
Holmes practically pushed Watson away from him, who looked briefly at Holmes then down the street and hurried away to the address shown on the paper. Holmes watched him go until he was out of sight then walked cautiously to the end of the street. He glanced around the side of the wall, and a strong hand thrust him backwards. Holmes struggled but the grip was strong and had tightened around his neck. He was crushed against the wall, the freezing cold of the brick seeping into his skin. Holmes kicked the man as hard as he was able, and he fell to the ground. Holmes kicked him again and he rolled onto his side, placing a knee against the man's windpipe Holmes pressed hard. The man was stunned but he recovered quickly and threw Holmes off him onto his back, a sharp punch landed across Holmes' cheek and another one quickly followed. His mind was swimming and blood was beginning to blur his vision. He lunged at the man on top of him and flung him off, placing a blow across his face, the man fell to the ground allowing Holmes time to regain his senses. Before the man could recover Holmes had pinned him to the ground.
"Who are you?" Holmes growled, spitting the blood from his mouth.
"None of your damn business!" To Holmes' surprise the man had a thick cockney accent. The shock gave the man a valuable second to escape Holmes' grip, Holmes was again on the ground, blood pouring from his hand and head.
"Listen to me Holmes, we know all about you and your woman and enquiries ain't welcome! Keep this up and you will be disposed of, and it won't be quick or painless!"
Holmes closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts, he pushed up with all the strength left to him and threw the man into the opposite wall, he hit it with a thud and slid down it. Holmes clutched at his throat and wiped the blood from his eyes, ensuring the man was not dead; he picked up his hat and left the alley. As he turned the corner, he began to run, he was being followed, they had not been alone in that alley. A cry wanted to escape from his lips but he refused to let it. The pain was becoming unbearable but he had to keep running, he dodged past the multitude of people who gasped as they saw the state of this well-dressed gentleman, he paid them no heed. He needed to get to Watson, his head was growing sore and the pounding in his ears was deafening. He shook himself to clear his vision. The address he had given to Watson was not far away, he should be there by now. He was; he saw the door of the building he had been seeking and pushed it open, the doorman rushed after him and touched his shoulder, Holmes span round. The movement was too much, before he could say a word of explanation he had collapsed into the man's arms and the world had gone black.