Note: I am very sorry to tell all my reviewers and fans of this fanfiction, that I will be writing one more chapter to sum it all up. I am glad this fanfic was popular, and thank you for all the support. Who knows, I might write a sequel?
Holmes fell asleep, with his head on the desk. He had a pencil in his hand as well. Watson was up fairly early and caught sight of the sleeping detective. He managed to take the drawing from under him. He flipped it over to the back and saw what Holmes had been writing. It wrote Irene's name with a small heart around it.
"You can't hide anything from me, Holmes." He laughed, pocketing the paper, and heading toward the table. He was joined moments later, by Mary, who was wearing a white night down which came down to her feet. Her hair was out of its usual bun and hanging past her shoulders.
"Good morning, John." She said, kissing him lightly.
"Morning, darling." He replied. He took out the paper and showed it to her.
"A butterfly?"
"No, turn it over." She did so and gasped. "See? I don't get why he's denying his feelings." Mary said nothing, and kept her eyes on the paper. He wrote her name so beautifully and made a curve with every letter. Was he even aware he was doing this, or was he half asleep, thinking of her?
"Why haven't you ever done this from me?" She finally said.
"Because I've never denied my feelings for you, and that's beside the point." He laughed.
"At any rate, we need Sherlock to realize his feelings for Irene."
"And hopefully, by the end of this case, he will admit it." She kissed him again, and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. She took out eggs and bread, while the coffee was getting ready. Watson waited at the table. When it was finished, she set it on the table in front of him and joined him as well. She smiled, sipping her coffee.
"It all looks delicious, Mary." He said, taking his cup in his own hands.
"Thank you." Mary replied. The smell of eggs reached Holmes's in the drawing room and forced him awake. He yawned, and headed toward the kitchen, unaware that the drawing was not on the desk with him, where he last left it. "Oh, good morning, Sherlock."
"Good morning." He replied, sitting down next to Watson and grabbing a cup of coffee. He drank it the whole thing without stopping and took a plate of eggs. During his breakfast, the paper caught his eye on the counter, where Mary set it down while she made breakfast. He stopped eating, got up without a word to them, and picked it up. "Watson," He said in a calm tone. "Where did you get this?"
"Holmes, I saw it while you were asleep."
"I…." He tried to speak, but he stopped short. His face was reddening with embarrassment. No matter what he wrote, he was going to deny it until they believed him. He ate the rest of his food and stormed off to the bathroom to shower and freshen up. During his shower, Melody woke up, having slept in guest room, because Holmes fell asleep on the desk. She went to the kitchen and sat with them at the table.
"Hello." She said. She was already dressed and her hair was done up nicely.
"Hello." Mary replied, handing her a plate of food. She thanked her and began eating. When she was done, she took all the plate and washed them despite Mary's constant objections; she did not like having a guest doing her work for her. After his shower, Holmes lay on the guest bed, and stared at the ceiling. Something must have happened last night; that's why she couldn't come. Why was he even getting so worked up about this? Why should he care she didn't show up? He didn't care, so there was no need to think about it any longer. If it were that easy….
Holmes spent the rest of the day being incredibly distant from everyone in the house. He was going through his depressed mode, which came every so often and completely engulfed him in darkness. He would lie on the bed, and just stare at the ceiling for hours at a time. If anyone addressed him, he wouldn't respond. Sometimes, he responded with a small grunt, but nothing more than that. Everyone's so used to him being so vibrant and hyper, but Watson knew this time came, and he was prepared for it. Mary and Melody, however, were worried about his strange behavior.
"Is he okay, John?" Mary asked, looking into the room, where he had a zombie-like look to him.
"Don't worry. It happens every so often. It will pass."
"I hope so." Melody commented.
As the sun set, Sherlock Holmes was still in the bedroom, but this time holding a revolver in his hands. He was not going to shoot anything; it wasn't his house. Well, he would, but didn't want to get into an argument with Mary about shooting the ceiling. He felt useless as he accomplished nothing and didn't get any closer to solving the case; for the first time in his life, he felt as though he could never solve a case, and that he was a failure.
"Holmes," Watson said, at a quarter to seven, "there's someone here for you."
"Tell them to go away." He replied.
"It looks rather important." He groaned, got up, and greeted the man at the door with a telegram. He handed him the letter, bowed, and was on his way. Another murder, he assumed, as he opened the letter up. "Another murder?"
"No. Just some small case they want me to solve. Let's go, Watson, maybe we'll run into something important." Watson nodded and told Mary goodbye for the time being. In case something would happen, Melody tagged along. Mary watched with tearful eyes, as he took off once again.
Watson noticed Holmes was extremely bored with the cases he was assigned with. He thought they would be something to amuse him and take his mind of the real case, but that didn't happen.
"The murderer is that man right there." He said, pointing to a man sitting on the floor.
"How is it me?" He gasped.
"Simple. When I arrived, you tried to leave as quickly as you could, explaining you left the oven on at home. You wouldn't answer questions concerning the victim, but then it hit me. Your friend, here, Miss Marrino, told us she was his fiancée. I watched you, and saw the jealousy and love light up in your eyes. You killed him because you love her. Case closed. Let's go, Watson." The cases went by so quickly, and his boredom stayed at the same level. It may have risen a little bit, to tell the truth. He solved the case concerning who killed a girl's cat and why they did it. He solved the case of who poisoned his sister's oatmeal one morning. He loved solving cases, but they meant nothing unless he could solve that one huge one which he was obsessed with at the moment. And the fact that Irene Adler did not show for dinner, did not make his life any easier. After solving a total of six dull cases, Holmes, Watson, and Melody walked through the streets in order to get back to Watson's house. Holmes sighed; he hoped to find something else to help him solve the case of the butterfly killer, but he found nothing. While walking, he stopped short.
"Something wrong?" Watson asked, but he spotted what he saw as well. Irene Adler was standing in the street, looking down at the ground beneath her, wearing a blue silk dress. Her brown hair hung down. Holmes started marching up to her. Watson grabbed him by the arm. "Holmes! What on earth are you doing?"
"I'm going to give that girl a piece of my mind." He replied, trying to shake his hand off.
"Just calm down…" Before Holmes could get free and charge after her, Irene was already walking toward them. "Hello, Miss Adler."
"Hello, Mr. Watson. Melody. Sherlock." Holmes avoided her gaze. "I need to talk with you."
"No."
"Sherlock! Come, please!"
"Make me." He was acting so immature. Irene took that as a challenge, and grabbed him by the cuff. She dragged him, causing Watson to lose his grip on his arm. "What do you want, Irene?"
"To talk, of course."
"About why you didn't show up?"
"Sherlock, I truly wanted to come, but…." She looked away, blushing slightly. "Maybe this will make up for it: I appreciate everything you've done for me. I was afraid I was going to die during that last duel with Blackwood."
"Well, don't make the mistake of thinking I care for you." He said, with a slight smirk.
"Don't worry; I won't." She smirked back, knowing full well it was lie. A few seconds later, police officers were running up the street.
"What's going on?" Holmes asked the one nearest to him. He was panting slightly.
"A burglary at the jewelry store." He pointed to a store at the end of the road. Many officers were already there. "I must go." He ran to join the rest of them. Holmes shot a glare at Irene, who looked utterly confused.
"Is that why you missed dinner? You were planning a burglary?" He asked in shock.
"NO!"
"Watson, let's go check this out. Some fun might come out of it."
