Holmes's fingers twitched as he lay on the floor of 221B Baker Street, in his navy Victorian dressing gown, and his eyes snapped open as he was jerked awake by Watson demanding while shutting the door with a harsh bang: "Answer me, damn it!"
Holmes blinked, trying to get his bearings as he lay on his side in the middle of his sitting room. His head was resting on a cushion beside the pile of newspapers, and his syringe and its case lay near his hand where it lay beside him.
"Moriarty was here." Holmes mumbled confusedly and Watson pointed out from where he was taking off his gloves in the doorway: "Moriarty's dead."
Holmes just waved his hand vaguely as he yawned, before rolling onto his back as he murmured thoughtfully: "I was on a jet."
"A what?" Watson asked blankly, and Holmes continued as he lifted his head: "You were there, and Mycroft."
He propped himself up onto his elbow, moving to sit up as Watson frowned, walking into the room as he told Holmes flatly: "You haven't left these rooms, Holmes. You ... haven't ... moved.
Holmes rubbed his head, running his hands through his hair as Watson came to a firm stop before him and repeated sternly: "Now, tell me. Morphine or cocaine?"
Holmes sighed before he replied: "Cocaine."
He dragged himself up onto his knees as he explained: "A seven percent solution."
He placed the syringe back into its case before standing up and offering the case to Watson.
"Would you care to try it?" He asked a tad sarcastically and Watson snapped tightly: "No, but I would quite like to find every ounce of the stuff in your possession and pour it out of the window."
Holmes smirked, and he replied as he closed the case: "I should be inclined to stop you."
"Then you would be reminded," Watson replied flatly, "quite forcibly, which of us is a soldier and which of us a drug addict."
"You're not a soldier." Holmes pointed out. "You are a doctor."
"I'm an army doctor," Watson countered, "which means I could break every bone in your body, while naming them."
Holmes raised a brow and he mused: "My dear Watson, you are allowing emotion to cloud your judgement."
"Never on a case." Watson hissed anyway, completely disregarding Holmes's statement. "You promised me never on a case."
"No," Holmes corrected, "I just said that in one of your stories."
He smiled thinly, and Watson snapped: "Listen. Holmes, I am not your wife and I am quite aware that if not even Rose-Marie could break your habits – even if it was what drove a wedge between you – then I most certainly never could."
"Good. Now that that is settled." Holmes said a little sarcastically, but Watson was nowhere finished as he snapped: "I'm happy to play the fool for you. I will run along behind you like some halfwit, making you look clever, if that's what you need, but dear God above!" He shouted. "You will hold yourself to a higher standard."
"Why?" Holmes shot back, and Watson retorted: "Because people need you to."
"What people?" Holmes demanded. "Why? Because of your idiot stories?"
"Yes, because of my idiot stories." Watson said sarcastically before he snapped: "There are people who care about you!"
"Like who?" Holmes countered, making Watson exhale sharply, but they were interrupted by a call from downstairs.
"Mr. Holmes!"
They turned as Billy the houseboy ran into the sitting room, calling still urgently: "Mr. Holmes! Telegram, Mr. Holmes!"
He held up the piece of paper, and Holmes took it at once. Billy ran out while Holmes tore open the telegram, reading it quickly as Watson clenched his fists, trying to calm his temper.
Holmes froze as he read the telegram's contents, blinking as though he were checking that he'd seen correctly before raising his eyes to Watson. The doctor glanced up as he felt Holmes's gaze, and seeing the vague shock and concern on the younger man's face, he asked: "What is it? What's wrong?"
"It's Mary." Holmes explained shortly before walking out of the sitting room while Watson frowned in confusion.
"Mary?" He called after Holmes. "What about her?"
"It's entirely possible she's in danger." Holmes informed him as he shrugged out of his dressing down in the doorway, making haste to get ready while Watson's jaw dropped.
"Danger?" He repeated incredulously, and Holmes said sharply: "There's not a moment to lose."
He hung up his dressing gown as Watson took a deep breath before he asked: "Is this the cocaine talking?"
Holmes ignored him as he swiftly grabbed his suit jacket and shrugged it on.
"What danger could Mary be in?" Watson demanded. "I'm sure she's just visiting with friends, maybe Rose-Marie-"
"Yes, she is and they are possibly in grave danger." Holmes replied making Watson's jaw drop even more.
"Come on!" He called impatiently as he hurried down the stairs, Watson following quickly as Holmes stumbled, grabbing the bannister for help as he struggled to finish getting dressed.
"What is happening?" Watson demanded, and as Holmes grabbed his outer coat and struggled to get it on, he added: "Are you even in a fit state?"
"For Marie? Of course." Holmes replied immediately. "Never doubt that, Watson."
He sighed before he repeated numbly: "Never that."
He breathed heavily before doubling over and groaning as he regretted the extra percent of cocaine.
"Holmes!" Watson cried, reaching over to help him straighten up but the younger man shook him off as he snapped: "I'm fine! Now come on, Marie and Mary need us."
"Why are you calling her just 'Marie'?" Watson wondered while Holmes reached for his top hat.
"And not that one." Watson added as he snatched the hat away, tossing it back before picking up the deerstalker.
"This one." He insisted and Holmes demanded confusedly: "Why?"
"You're Sherlock Holmes, wear the damn hat." Watson sighed as he shoved the hat at Holmes, who took it without further protest as the two men hurried outside in search of a cab.
As they sat in the cab, racing through the countryside as the sun set, Watson asked tightly: "So, tell me. Where is she?"
Holmes sighed as he buried his head in one hand, clutching his throbbing head, and Watson snapped: "You must tell me, my wife is there too. What's going on?"
"Oh, good old Watson!" Holmes snapped back as he lifted his head angrily but not looking at Watson. "How would we fill the time if you didn't ask questions?"
"Sherlock," John demanded, "tell me where my bloody wife is, you pompous prick, or I'll punch your lights out!"
Holmes paused, startled by the modern tone and words, and he glanced back at his friend in surprise, staring at Watson dressed in his bowler hat and moustache.
"Holmes!" Watson insisted. "Where is she?"
Holmes stared at Watson, a little taken aback and bewildered, and in his confusion he quickly explained: "A desanctified church. She, and Rose-Marie, think they've found the solution, and for no better reason than that, they've put themselves in the path of considerable danger."
He looked away as he added in a mutter: "An excellent choice of wife."
"What?" Watson demanded as he turned on his friend. "I don't want to hear that from you!"
"You're right." Holmes replied flatly, not looking at Watson. "Rose-Marie wasn't even going to bother to telegram apparently."
That silenced Watson, and the cab ride went on in silence as they rushed through the middle of nowhere.
The pair headed quickly inside the church, running down various corridors, and Watson almost had a heart attack as something stepped out from behind a pillar at the end of one corridor.
"What the devil?!" He gasped, but Mrs. Watson just whispered to him and Holmes, who had been behind Watson: "I've found them."
"We found them." Rose-Marie corrected as she stepped out from behind the corner at the end of the corridor.
Watson stared but she didn't notice as she looked directly at Holmes. His face had tightened just slightly at the sight of her, trying to hide the pain she always brought now and the concern over if she was all right. He'd done a quick scan when she'd stepped out and saw nothing visibly wrong, except for perhaps the fact that she was once again not wearing her corset. However, given the circumstances, it didn't surprise him.
Both Rose-Marie and Mary were wearing frilly dress coats and dark gloves, with small fashionable hats atop their head over curls piled up into elegant buns behind their heads - as per Victorian norm. But instead of the usual long frilled dresses, they both wore flowing skorts, which ended just below the knees, paired with laced ankle boots over their stockings.
Rose-Marie gazed at him silently, having noted his quick once-over, before jerking her head back, motioning for them to follow her. As they headed inside, they could hear distant chanting, getting louder the more they followed Rose-Marie, and Mary behind her.
They descended some steps into the lower level, where two small metal braziers on tripods were burning, and Watson whispered in shock: "What is all this, Mary?"
"This is the heart of it all, John." Mrs. Watson explained, and Rose-Marie added in an undertone: "The heart of the conspiracy."
They headed deeper inside, heading for the vaults where they could hear the Latin chanting was coming from. As they got closer, it became gradually clearer that the voices chanting were female, causing Watson to frown while it confirmed Holmes's suspicions.
The group stopped before a pair of arches stone windows, and the two Watsons stood before one while the other pair stood before the other. They all peered through to watch as a line of figures proceeded passed in the corridor opposite them, separated by a large space that led opened up to the church vault below. The figures were hooded and masked in a large pointed veil, shrouding not only their faces but also their whole body and making it difficult to tell apart one from the other.
"Great God." Watson murmured in shock. "What is this place? And what the devil are you," he glanced at his wife, "doing here?"
"Rose-Marie and I have been making enquiries." Mrs. Watson explained. "Mr. Holmes asked us."
"Holmes, how could you?" Watson said in shock, and Mrs. Watson corrected in exasperation: "No, not him. The clever one. No offense, Rose-Marie." She added.
"None taken." The brunette woman replied, while Holmes seemed unmoved by the statement as he peered thoughtfully at the figures across the way.
Watson meanwhile was staring at the two women, waiting expectantly for more, and Rose-Marie explained: "It seemed obvious to us that this business could not be managed alone. My theory, and Mary agreed with me, is that Mrs. Ricoletti had help, help from her friends."
"Bravo, Rose-Marie, Mary." Holmes breathed, before he frowned and turned to Mrs. Watson as he added, the words finally sinking in: "'The clever one'?"
"Oh…" Mrs. Watson muttered sheepishly, while Rose-Marie pointed out: "He did figure it out much quicker than you did."
"Because you were working for him, which only proves you are the real clever one." Holmes replied promptly, causing a look of surprise to flit across his ex-wife's face before she smiled blindingly at him.
It caught him off-guard, and he stared at her while Watson murmured shakily: "I… I thought I was losing you."
Holmes blinked, coming out of his reverie at staring at Rose-Marie to glance sideways at Watson. Rose-Marie saw the look and her smile widened in anticipation as Watson admitted: "I thought perhaps we were… neglecting each other."
"Well, you're the one who moved out at the same time Rose-Marie did." Holmes pointed out, and Rose-Marie chuckled while Watson closed his eyes as he bit out: "I was talking to Mary."
He paused, before turning to look at Mrs. Watson as he asked incredulously: "You're also working for Mycroft?"
"He likes to keep an eye on his mad sibling." Mrs. Watson explained with a shrug. "What with Rose-Marie indisposed for the moment, he turned to me."
"Nope." Rose-Marie commented, sounding uncannily like her ex-husband.
Watson blinked while Mrs. Watson amended: "All right, truth is I've been working for Mycroft from the start. I spied on Sherlock instead because Rose-Marie refused flat out to spy on Sherlock for Mycroft."
"Of course she wouldn't." Holmes said with a smug smile, although it was quickly wiped off as Watson wondered: "But why, Rose-Marie, if you were so loyal to Holmes before, did you walk out and then join Mycroft? It can't actually have been because of his drug habits like you claimed, was it?"
"Oh, John." Rose-Marie sighed in a half-amused, half-wistful tone. "The drugs and his constant absence were simply the perfect excuse- although I am still angry about that. I walked out because I would do anything to keep Sherlock safe. Even if it means leaving his side."
Watson started violently in surprise while Holmes sighed quietly.
Mrs. Watson ignored her husband's reaction as she examined Holmes intently, and she observed: "You're taking the news that your wife lied and pretended to divorce you, all to keep you safe, extraordinarily well."
"Because I would have done the same for her." He replied shortly, making Rose-Marie smile a little.
Watson interjected, frowning in confusion: "Wait, 'pretended to divorce'?"
"I never started the paperwork." Rose-Marie explained.
Watson stared while Mrs. Watson added: "Only Sherlock Holmes would never realize that paperwork was necessary to finalize a divorce. She walked out declaring it was over and that was all that he needed and therefore thought about."
"Holmes?" Watson demanded incredulously, while the man himself grimaced.
"Sometimes, you are so naïve, my dear husband." Rose-Marie said fondly as she patted his cheek, and Holmes caught her hand.
Holding it in place against his face, he kissed the back of her hand softly in a rare moment of public display of affection. For him, that is. Watson raised a brow but couldn't keep a small smile from gracing his lips while Mrs. Watson straight-out beamed at the pair as Holmes stared down at his wife intently.
Rose-Marie blinked before her lips curved up into a small smile as she said sincerely: "I will never be able to hate you or stop loving you, Sherlock. You said it yourself- I knew who and what you were when I agreed to marry you and I don't need you to change that. I love you just as you are, you clever idiot. Although I am still angry with you for always leaving me behind."
He blinked while Mrs. Watson chuckled and Watson's lips twitched up in another smile. Holmes's eyes softened and he murmured: "Thank you for coming back to me. And while I cannot change who I am at my core, I swear to you I will never leave you to wake up alone again."
"That is a bold promise, Mr. Holmes." Rose-Marie teased. "Are you sure you don't want to rethink your words before you make empty promises?"
"Never." He answered, making her smile while Mrs. Watson and Watson chuckled.
The Holmes' linked hands as they smiled at each other, while the Watsons watched with smiles, before Watson's eyes slid over to his wife.
"So, how long have you been working for Mycroft?" He asked, genuinely curious and Mrs. Watson shrugged.
"A while." She admitted, and Holmes interjected, back to his usual brisk self: "Has it never occurred to you, Watson, that your wife is excessively skilled for a nurse?"
"Of course it hasn't." Mrs. Watson replied instantly before she smirked. "Because he knows what a nurse is capable of."
Watson's lips also curved up into a brief smile while Mrs. Watson turned to look at Holmes curiously.
"When did it occur to you?" She asked, and he admitted: "Only now, I'm afraid. I was rather preoccupied before."
He glanced at Rose-Marie, who smiled as she remembered the merry little chase she had led him on since the start of their relationship when he had been trying to figure out who she was. Back when she had been going under the name Victoire. It had certainly been one of the most remarkable adventures Holmes had embarked on, and the only one he never wished to end.
Mrs. Watson raised a brow before she challenged lightly: "Must be difficult being the slow spouse."
She grinned, winking at Rose-Marie who also chuckled, while Holmes replied brusquely: "Time I sped up."
He looked back across as the line of figures finally disappeared down into the vault, and he murmured: "Enough chatter. Let's concentrate."
"Yes, all right." Mrs. Watson murmured as they all frowned at the figures once more.
"What's all this about?" Mrs. Watson wondered, and Rose-Marie added with a small thoughtful frown: "What do they want to accomplish?"
"Why don't we go and find out?" Holmes suggested, leading them off after the figures, his right hand holding Rose-Marie's left, where her wedding band sat on her ring finger once more beneath her glove.