Chapter Ten.
"You said you hardly knew her!" Gardenia almost spat at Holmes who did not flinch.
"I lied."
"You filthy, disgraceful, pompous Englishman! How dare you come into my house, accept my hospitality and then lie to me!"
Holmes laughed,
"I'm afraid Mr. Gardenia I have been called worse things and survived them. You obviously had connections with Miss. Adler, why don't you tell me of them?" Holmes assumed his most charming manner and his most sickly sweet voice, afraid that if he let even a hint of his true emotion slip out he would break and bring down on Gardenia all his grief and anger and all the force of his loathing, so he kept up the pretence as he had always done in the past.
"I shall not tell you anything!" Gardenia screamed once more, throwing his glass into the fire, it shattered into a million glittering pieces. Holmes stared at it for a moment, unmoving until Watson stood.
"Sit down Watson; we are not going anywhere until Mr. Gardenia tells us all he knows."
Watson obediently sat, wise enough not to disobey Holmes and loyal enough to trust that he knew what he was doing, even in this unusual circumstance. Gardenia sat, head in his hands, breathing heavily.
"Well?" Holmes pressed, sipping his brandy in a nonchalant manner that Watson was sure was going to anger his foe, and he tensed involuntary.
"What is this woman to you? Why do you care so much about how or why she died?"
"The answer to that is something you will never understand; just tell me what I need to know."
"And if I tell you, what will happen to me? Do you think I would let you take me alive? That I would let you bring me to justice, take away all I have earned?"
Holmes' face darkened and his eyes blazed,
"You have earned nothing Gardenia, you have gained everything you have through greed and murder, treading on everyone and destroying everything in your path and you expect me to be lenient?"
"I know you are a fair man Mr. Holmes, I have heard often of your fairness with men who, at the hands of the police would have been sent to the gallows."
"Those men committed crimes because they were forced into such actions, they did not choose to destroy people for their own gain as you have."
"You know nothing about what I have been through."
"I know enough to know it did not justify what you have done."
"You would care nothing for me if Adler had not died."
It was said softly but it had the desired effect, Holmes knew it was true, he knew of Gardenia's past and his fight to reclaim all he had lost; he knew he was punishing him for Irene's death when under normal circumstances he may have turned a blind eye to Gardenia's dealings, after all he could not fight the injustice in this far-off continent as well as in his own. Gardenia noticed the momentary pause and took advantage of it.
"I am right," He almost laughed. Holmes met his gaze but was far from amused.
"It makes no difference, you are responsible for the death of someone I cared a great deal about, you will not get away with it." He stood and gazed down at the cowering Gardenia, who looked up at him with fear.
"I promise you, you will pay."
Holmes' figure took on a startling appearance and his very form seemed to force Gardenia into silence. Watson stood also, but went unnoticed by the frightened man who did not even attempt to challenge Holmes' unspoken authority. Without a word Holmes threw on his coat and swept out of the room. Watson cast a brief, pitiful glance toward the cowardly figure shivering by the fire, then followed Holmes into the night.
After a while Gardenia stood and slowly walked over to his desk. He idly stacked papers and wrote memos to various people. He unlocked a drawer and took out a faded photograph. On it was a woman, a beautiful woman who was laughing. It was all her fault, she had sent the most dangerous man in London after him and he knew he could not escape, he had never seen such determination in a pair of eyes as he had seen in this mans and he was afraid. Slowly and without thoughts he pressed the photograph to his chest, he then took a pistol from the same drawer and with tear filled eyes shot the photograph, blood covered it and glass from its frame splintered into the dying man's skin. He laughed as he fell to the ground. He was glad, Holmes would not expect it, he knew he could not beat him and he wanted out, out of this filthy life that he had created for himself, away from those eyes that were the only thing in the world that had ever scared him. Gently and without feeling Gardenia slipped away.