I have three more chapters already written on my iPod (wish you could upload from there), so expect quick updates. This chapter was mainly meant to wrap up the first "mystery" in this story... I know, where does the whole "smarter than Sherlock himself" part fit in? Well, I'm still thinking about that. This was just to kind of introduce everyone. Enjoy!
Addison de Carte was the young age of twenty-one, just now branching into the world. Her eyes were crystal blue; they told her life story. They were open, vulnerable. She hadn't faced the evils of the world, but she knew enough to know life wasn't perfect.
It had all started last year, when she'd met Dr. John Watson after being in a terrible car accident where she'd lost her six-year-long boyfriend. She had been in a terrible state of mind. Dr. Watson had explained to her that he was dealing with loss himself, that of a close friend, someone like a brother. She'd learned that it was none other than the infamous Sherlock Holmes himself (she'd heard of him through the papers out in Cambridge). Dr. Watson had sympathized with her, and she'd been able to move on because of him.
However, things changed when she was helping her parents move to a new location in west England. She was moving things from the attic when she noticed a large cardboard box labeled "Morrison Marriage." Addison stopped, staring into the box. She'd never heard of a "Morrison Marriage", so naturally she was intrigued. She sat and went through everything- baby supplies, photo albums- and grabbed a black photo album with gold letters spelling: "Madeline de Carte- Age 15; Summer." Addison was curious, so she opened it. Glancing through the photos, she saw a tall, thing girl who seemed to be very ahead for her age physically, with dark blonde hair and the same clear eyes Addison had. There were pictures of her mainly with Mr. de Carte, and she never smiled in any pictures with the Addison's mother. She searched through the box some more, pulling out articles involving the death of Madeline de Carte, and pictures of an older woman, with dark brown hair in random places all over London. In all of the pictures she was on the phone, dressed in all black, and usually sliding into all sorts of black cars. Addison was intrigued, and she glanced at the back of one of the photos. Irene Adler, age 26. Coffee shop near Baker Street, London. Sherlock Holmes? After inquiring about it to her father, she knew what she had to do.
She needed to find her sister.
Now, less than eight months later, here she was, sitting across from the woman who she'd been shielded from her enter life, her suspected lover and dead man, and the doctor who had sort of started it all, along with the "lover's" brother. The elder Mr. Holmes had been very gracious when he'd picked her up from Jessica's hotel room; he hadn't called her a criminal once. He hadn't even handcuffed her. After all, all she wanted was her sister.
It was tense in the room; you could cut it with a knife. Irene stared down Addison, not the least bit thrilled that it was her sister, of all people, texting her. Sherlock had a smile on his face, eyes burning with knowledge. And poor John, he was just as confused as the landlady who'd watched them walk up the stairs.
"Well, Mycroft, it's great to see that you listen to your younger brother. Did Ms. Monroe ever contact you?"
Addison snorted. Everyone turned to her with quizzical expressions. "Jessie is a close friend of mine from when I was studying in America. Political Sciences. She went on with it, I moved back to England to settle down with Mikey. She told me you all were onto me when we had lunch the other day."
"So then why did you pretend to be kidnapped?" Irene gripped the arm of the sofa to keep herself form slapping the girl silly. Addison shrugged.
"I knew you'd fall for it. I've heard playing dirty ran in the family. Or am I wrong?" Addison arched an eyebrow, crossing her legs. Irene rolled her eyes.
Amateur. "Well, if you must know, I only play dirty when riding crops are involved. You can just ask Mr. Holmes here." She nodded towards Sherlock, who blushed deeply. "Which, as you can see, your impersonation of him wouldn't have worked, since he's alive."
Addison leaned forward, pushing her breasts closer together. "Tell me, Mr. Holmes, how'd you fall off an eleven-story building and still survive?"
Sherlock laughed at her trying seduction. "Very carefully." He paused, leaning closer to her. "Your sister mentioned you'd be good at the family business. You still have a lot to learn." He leaned back, draping an arm across the back of the sofa. Addison rolled her eyes, sitting back as well.
"I'm sure. The sad part was, Father despised me after I told him what I wanted to do. Said I was a disgrace, just like you."
"Well, that's a complement coming from Daddy Dearest," Irene muttered. "He can never seem to let anyone live their own lives."
"That's Father." Addison sighed. "He had a private investigator on you, Maddie. He knows you're alive."
"Actually, I'm dead. Both of my alias's are dead. And I knew about the P.I. Well, I knew what he liked." She smirked at Sherlock's tensing. "I paid him to take photos of me here. It got Daddy Dearest off my case. He's afraid of me. What prime businessman wouldn't be?"
"What does your father do?" John inquired, leaning forward to look at Irene.
"Oh, he's a real estate agent," Addison chimed, shrugging. Irene laughed.
"Hardly. It's only his cover up." She turned to John. "His clients are his brokers. He buys and sells stolen goods- jewelry, paintings, arms, etc. His real estate agents are his protection. Without them, he has nothing. He was one of my mother's clients. She knew what he liked, she bought jewelry from him, he found her places to conduct her business, he bought pleasure from her. He seemed like the only one of her clients truly interested in her, and the only one who could provide enough protection for a child since she needed to pass on the business before she got too old. So, she chose him. He left his first wife and married my mother." She looked at Addison. "There's a lot you don't know about Daddy. Another reason he leaves me alone: Mummy had incriminating photos of him and what he likes. When he threatened to take us to court, she just simply reminded him of that. Your poor mother would've have a heart attack."
"That's where you learned to take photos of each of your clients from," Sherlock noted, looking at her with a straight face. Irene nodded.
"I told you she taught me everything. I had to make sure I was protected." She turned to Addison. "That still doesn't answer why you couldn't just text me saying you wanted to meet. I know who you are. Ever wonder where my new identity's last name came from?"
Addison opened her mouth. "I didn't know that."
"Well, I'd kept my tabs on you all as well. I knew who you were. I was... jealous of your relationship with Father and your mother; she hated me for looking more like Father than you, and your relationship with Michael. I never liked the path I took, but I wanted to feel accepted by my mother. Sadly, that backfired on me. You're lucky you're still so innocent. There are things in this world no one should know about." The three men in the room nodded their heads, murmuring their agreements. "Addie, don't end up like me. I'm glad to have finally met you, but this is as far as it can go. I live a dangerous life as a dead woman, and I won't be able to keep it up much longer if people notice you going in and out of this apartment." Irene stood, extending a hand out to her younger sister. "Maybe, when things have calmed down entirely, we can see each other again. Feel free to text me, but never pull that Sherlock Holmes shit again. Ever. I was about to have you arrested. Just... Pretend this never happened, okay? Inform Father about my trip to Pakistan; Mycroft will fill you in on the way back to Jessica's. And please, keep your eyes as slits when you tell him. Wide eyes can't lie, dearie. Have a good rest of your life."
Addison was shocked. Just as soon as she'd found her sister, she was gone again. The two exchanged a brief hug, before Irene nodded towards Mycroft. She watched as he Addie out, Irene knowing she'd most likely never see her again. Too many people wanted her dead, and Sherlock as well. There was no way to retire from any of it, and she knew that. It was a dangerous life she lived, and she'd dug herself too deep to even think about retiring. She played a dangerous game; pleasuring men of power. Not everyone could be like her grandmother- pleasuring local men, and able to retire almost peacefully with a World War II vet and raise a family. Irene did blame her mother, to a degree, for this mess. Irene could've stayed with just the low-paying clients, but she got power hungry. And because of that, she'd been denied the privilege of having a relationship with her baby sister. And sadly, she'd most likely caused a tear in the relationship between her father and Addie. She shook her head at the thought of it, wishing she wasn't where she was. Silently, she walked into Sherlock's room and picked up her phone. There was a new message.
I'll have Mycroft deliver the box filled with the things I found before I leave tonight. I figured they should be with their rightful owner.
Irene smiled. It was a thoughtful gesture. Thank you. You're a kind girl, Addison. Just remember that. You're going to need it as you grow older.
Less than a minute later, her phone buzzed.
I will.
Irene smiled. Maybe her life wasn't so bad after all.
Okay, that was a long one. Glad I got that over with. Hope you guys liked it! Remember to review!(: