Don't own anything except original characters. All material (c) to respective owners. I write these for fun and make no profit. They're just random plot bunnies that live within my strange mind
A/N: New chapters up, more coming. Happy New Year! Thanks for reading I appreciate it. :)
Chapter 9: Follow Me Down
I go to protest the aspect of having a sibling, especially in this particular time and see my 'brother' step into the doorway. It's Sherlock, again he's in disguise though this time he's wearing a brown haired wig and silver rimmed glasses. His outfit changed little except for the jacket and a few changes to his prostetics that he uses in his obscure methods. I stand just barely resisting the urge to through the tea in my hand at him and smile gratefully to the Watson's. I walk slowly past listening to them talk to Sherlock, I find his hint of a darker tone amusing and know he's overdoing things but Watson still seems fooled.
"Do make sure Felix understands that I could have done worse." Sherlock nods saying he certainly will and condems his other character with the might of a true brother before following me to the exit.
Mrs. Hudson sees us on our way before we walk toward a waiting carriage. I see Sherlock indicate me first and do so before hearing him talking with John and then he joins me. I wait for the driver to get out of sight of the house before casting a dark glare on Sherlock. He watches me closely, I can see he's looking for a reaction and he knows that I'm just biding my time.
"I hate you Holmes." I state sharply, much harsher than I intended. "I lied to them, they truly believed everything I said and now I feel…sullied, unpleasant and it was all due to your damn scheme." He lifts a hand silencing me before glancing out the carriage windows and peeling of his disguise.
"I had to be sure he wasn't being watched. I had no intention of making you feel at all soiled…it is all for the best." I lash out letting my emotions get the better of the battle and kick him, he visibly winces reaching down to his leg and rubs it. "I expected you to go for the face."
"You're lucky I didn't aim hire and to the middle." I snarl closing my eyes putting my figners to the bridge of my nose trying to calm my raging emotions. "He misses you, he was going to tell mrs. Hudson to leave your study alone…she was cleaning out the aftermath of your jungle." Sherlock's dark eyes lower leaving me confused on what he's thinking at the moment.
"I've put the final piece to my plan into action. Things will be cleared up soon enough and then the real problems will begin." I look at him seeing he's all serious, his dark eyes tell volumes now that he's actually looking at me.
He lifts his pipe to his lips, chews on the end and then focuses on lighting it. "You mean we've had a cake walk since you started this whole premeditated mess?" He smiles though there is no humor in it. "Why did I ever listen to you?"
He doesn't answer knowing it's meant to be rhetorical and begins to go off into that thought process where I won't get to him for a while. I choose to let him be and allow my own dark thoughts to cloud over, including the ones that I had been trying to deny myself for the past several hours after the conversation with John Watson.
Why would I have sounded so convincing? How could I have made John believe that I loved my supposed fiancé sounding so sincere? I sat there in my own reflections trying to solve those questions. I felt like some idiot sitting there thinking over something so silly but then I was left alone to do so. What made me convince Sherlock's best friend that I sincerely loved this man, though it had been made-up to aide in a plan-it sounded far to genuine for me not to feel worried by it. I wasn't the type to swoon at anyone, especially some obsessive detective that had the habit of drinking odd chemicals at random and becoming so highstrung one minute and confusing the next. Sherlock was far from the ideal romance, he had issues such as emotional detachment, being absorbed in his own world half the time and that was just two from a pretty long list. I rub my temples trying to untangle the web of lies I had told John and sort out any truths I may have put within them.
The coach is stopping on a familiar street, however we do not get off anywhere near the building where the fights take place. Sherlock still lost in contemplation reaches over without a word putting an arm around my waist and directs my path to the building in the distance. I feel tongue-tied after sorting through my thoughts for so long-especially when I came to conclusions that made this far more perplexing than before. He guides us down the alleyway where we had come out of before, opening the door he lets me in first before locking the door behind us. The first thing I smell is left over stale alcohol, smoky smells from cigars, pipes and the like. I hear silence and make my way to the doorway leading to the arena where the night had taken an interesting twist. The place is a disaster, from lingering garbage to papers from the fights and the left over containers everywhere. I feel bad for the one that has to clean up the mess, seeing no signs of life I continue to stare flashes of John's previous fight coming back to mind.
Sherlock comes up behind me, close and now that I realize he has no consideration for personal space-I am more sensitive than before-his hands gently ease on my arms where they ahd been when his plan had been thrown into action. I wonder why he seems concerned and realize he wonders if the force he had used may have hurt. I turn glimpsing him out of the corner of my eye.
"I'm fine, you didn't do any damage." He nods though he doesn't remove his hands-I feel very conscious of feel of his presence behind me-slowly he guides me into the room and directs us back to the hall leading to the attic. "Did you set up the package to be delivered to John?"
"Yes, I also need to finish my camouflage for when it arrives." I nod easily climbing the stairs to the attic, I feel drained after the assorted emotional events of the day and pause galancing around the room seeing he had ordered everything to his liking.
The sheets were now tossed in a far corner off to my right and the majority of the room resembled that from the movie. Everything in it's place, assorted experiments in their place and others being started from what I can see. I watch him pass me going to a place where a pile of material is setting and see him go back to what he was doing. I hear him mutter softly about how well its working and smile. So I did not like his approach to revealing himself to be alive to John, it didn't mean I wouldn't help him-the being the fool-I stepped up beside him and knelt of the floor. He worked on the top of the material and I began to work on the bottom. Between the two of us I was sure that he would be ready and in that case I hoped that John could forgive me for letting him lead me into his madness, to go along with his strategy instead of choosing my own.
I found my way to the sheets after the long process of getting his camouflage finished the night before. It had been easy to fall asleep regardless of the hard surface under those sheets-though that hadn't been a problem for me-I snuggle into the sheets content to continue sleeping before hearing something in the room and moaning ignoring it.
"How does it look Isabella?" I blearily glance at the gloomy gray colored wall noting light and gather its early in the morning.
Rolling slowly over I rub my face glancing up seeing Sherlock modeling his accomplishment and smirk. "Unbecoming…but it will do." He frowns glancing down before turning moving to retrieve his long jacket. "How are you getting inside?"
"My house key." I should have known better than to ask such a stupid question. "Are you going to sleep all morning…or come along?"
The appeal of sleep at this point was seriously outweighing any need I had to see Sherlock accomplish giving his friend a close health problem, however the appeal was there and it was slowly pulling me from my need to sleep. To be honest again I was letting his excitement infect me, I come to terms that perhaps there was something about Sherlock I was in denial about but I had given up dwelling on it for the time being. The idea of coming along for the journey alone gave me motivation to sit up and get to my feet.
"I will come along, though I am not wearing this dress." I turn silently asking for his assistance and thank him before going to change.
I pull on the black trousers, long shirt of the same color with slightly loose sleeves that Madame Zimza had given me. I feel amused to say the least, though Ihave no idea why. I tie on the sash that matched my ensemble before reaching into my pockets and pausing at the feel of cardboard in my hand. Delicate and shaped in a small rectangle, I remember the card then and slowly lift it out of my pocket. I look down at it staring hard in astonishment before feeling my face warm. Instead of thinking about the card I put it into my bag tucked within the letters-the only thing Sherlock doesn't disturb-I then swing it over my shoulder and come out of the shadows hearing the slightest ping of violin strings. He's clearly thinking more over what is going to happen and stops when his dark eyes find me.
"Much more fitting." He states standing-I wonder if it's a compliment hidden in his usual stoic manner?-he again reaches around my waist and guides the way. "We're going to have to go in the backway of Baker Street, you will be around front waiting in the carriage." I nod as he explains his method of getting into the house and past Mrs. Hudson and Mary.
"I think he will wait to strangle you, he will be relieved to see you alive and well." He doesn't look at all convinced but does at least offer an attempt at a smile.
It doesn't take as long as I would have liked to get to the back side of Baker Street. I watch Sherlock step out of the carriage before he paused. I can see him taking in the figures on the street, the idea of threats being voided when he smiles seemingly satisfied. I watch him dart off down the back of the townhouses and am aware of the driver continuing the journey to the front of the house and Sherlock's residence. I close my eyes waiting, the only thing to really do and smile remembering how excited John had been when the idea of Holmes being alive had occurred. He had overlooked Sherlock sitting right in the room due to his camouflage, Sherlock had taken that to his advantage looking over Watson's memoires and smiled.
I blink hearing the commotion of someone on the front steps of the house and see John standing there searching the street for the delivery person. I had missed the delivery but not the reaction to it. I watch him rush of the steps combing the street oblivious to the coach not three feet from the house. He pauses in his search talking to the driver, I duck down to the floor not wishing to be seen and wait hearing a deep sigh before peeking out the window seeing John sulkily walk back to the front entrance of the house. It won't be long before more than excitement gives John motivation. I wait as he enters back into the house wondering how Sherlock will drop the news.
Waiting itself was designed to drive me out of my mind. I wasn't a patient person, I knew how the story began but had no idea the ending. I began to doubt that John wouldn't at least knock Sherlock across the mouth, though he seemed to handle it fairly well. A few minutes went by before I hear the front of the doors open and duck back into the carriage out of sight.
"Would you be so kind as to join us Isabella?" I recoil at the slightly frosty tone to her voice and realize the news had already been accomplished and clearly Mary wasn't keen on the method.
