Chapter Three. Decisions.

Angel had fully composed herself by the time Holmes returned. Amrit had fallen asleep in Angel's bed, exhausted by the strange white woman's tears and by his own confusion and grief. Angel was sitting with her feet up, on the windowsill staring as the morning passed into the afternoon. Holmes gently pushed open the door and entered, she did not turn to look at him. He cast a brief glance at the boy in the bed and walked slowly over to meet her.

"Angel?" He whispered so as not to startle her. She turned to him and he smiled. She did not smile back.

"Is it over?"

"Is what over?" He sat down opposite her, grateful for the cool breeze and the silence of her room.

"The hysteria, the noise. The murderer of this boy's father," She gestured with her arm to the bed where Amrit lay, "is he caught?"

"Yes he is caught." Holmes frowned at the tone in her voice; he could tell that she was strained and holding on to her dignity by a thread.

"It's not good for you to be up here alone Angel."

"What choice did you give me?" She asked quietly, turning her eyes back to the window.

Holmes sighed, a sound that pulled at Angel's heart, but she ignored the pain.

"You are right."

He said no more. Angel wanted to break the tension that was building in the room but was too tired and emotional to think. Holmes sat with her for a while; the room became darker as the cloudless blue sky became grey. Suddenly the clouds broke and rain fell on a sun baked India. People in the streets smiled and children screamed and played. Angel breathed in the cool air and let the rain wash in through her open window and on to her outstretched hand. Holmes closed his eyes and let his mind wander back to London and home. Neither stirred until a small whimpering was heard behind them. Angel turned from the window, her hand still outstretched and gestured to the boy now awake and rubbing his eyes in sleepy confusion.

"Come feel the rain Amrit." She said, and as if he understood her, he climbed out of the bed and up onto her lap. He too held out his hand and smiled as the large raindrops bounced off his small hand. Holmes smiled at the boy who was so entranced by the rain that would have, were it not for Angel's restraining hand, toppled head first into the street below.

For a brief moment Holmes felt strangely at peace. He watched this beautiful girl, her eyes glazed over with a sadness he could not begin to comprehend, holding as if her life depended on it, the small boy whose father had been so cruelly taken from him. Holmes watched as a bond was formed between the two, a bond of loneliness and isolation. Loving but not being loved in return. He felt a strange pity for Angel and her sadness but was unwilling to do anything about it. He mumbled something about the chief of police, a Colonel Montgomery, arranging a dinner for them at the British Embassy to which Angel nodded but remained silent. Holmes lingered a while longer, not wanting to return to the loneliness of his room but Angel was unresponsive and Holmes did not wish to console her. He stood and told her he would be by at 8 o'clock to escort her to dinner. Angel again nodded and Amrit sat looking at him expectantly. Holmes attempted a smile, bowed slightly to Angel and left quickly.

Returning to the sanctity of his own room Holmes collapsed onto the bed and clasped his hands to his eyes. He was tired and it was hot – too hot for any decent Englishman to bear. He undid his shirt and lay back down, facing the ceiling he thought of the situation he was in. Errand boy for his brother's diplomatic missions and guardian of two – no three – children. That's all they were, he reflected, children. Benji, Amrit, Angel – just children. What had he been thinking? Had Watson ruined him? Given him this need for human companionship that he had never before needed? He had never seen himself as the fatherly type and he wasn't good at it – nor did he want to be. He wanted to be rid of them and yet he needed them with him. Still there may come a time when he would need to proceed alone. He sighed – he would cross that bridge when he came to it. The rain continued to beat against the closed windows, Holmes felt oppressed so he stood to open the shutters. As he did so he glanced down into the street and saw a man staring up at him, a man about his age and height, wearing the clothes of a beggar but undoubtedly staring at him. He stared back equally as hard until the man turned and walked slowly down the street, ignoring the playful taunts of the children and the rain lashing against his body. Holmes watched him go with interest but was unconcerned – if he wanted to kill him, he would have done so. Sighing Holmes unbuttoned his shirt and began to dress for dinner.

At 8 o'clock precisely Holmes called for Angel, she opened the door and took his breath away. She was dressed head to toe in traditional Indian dress that sparkled and shimmered around her, making her seem as if she were from another world. Amrit appeared behind her and gingerly took her hand. He smiled at Holmes who returned it warmly;

"I thought it would be nice for Amrit to join us." Angel said, smiling down at the boy gazing at Holmes.

"Er… Yes of course." Holmes stammered, for perhaps the first time in his life, "Where did you get that?"

Angel looked down at her clothes and smiled at Amrit, who grinned impishly back.

"The lady who cleans the apartments here gave it to me; she said I should look the part for a dinner at the Embassy."

Holmes raised an eyebrow at the thought of a lowly cleaning woman in India who could speak English. Still he said nothing.

"Well she was right and the clothes for Amrit?" Holmes enquired, glancing at the boy.

"Oh he fetched them himself from his home." Angel replied innocently.

"You let him go out alone?"

"No, of course not. I went with him."

Holmes suppressed the anger he was feeling at her actions and merely smiled. He offered Angel his arm which she took, Amrit still hanging off her other hand.

"Do you talk to her a lot?" Holmes enquired as they descended the stairs into the lobby.

"Who?"

"The cleaning woman who got you the clothes."

"Sometimes, she's been around a lot today must have been all the commotion. She knew Amrit was in my room so she came to see if he was alright. Then we got talking and she asked about you…"

"About me? What did you tell her?"

"Nothing, don't worry I told her you were Mr. Sigerson, a friend who I was travelling with and you were taking me to dinner at the Embassy because you are an important man."

Angel smiled at Holmes who was staring blankly ahead.

"And what did she say to that?"

"She agreed and said you were indeed important to some people, then she got me the dress. What's wrong?"

Holmes' body had stiffened and his eyes had assumed that glazed expression they wore when he was in deep concentration. Holmes turned to her and smiled quickly.

"Nothing. Come we must hurry else we shall be late."

They hurried towards the Embassy amongst the noise and the rain soaked streets of India in the evening. Arriving at the Embassy Holmes knocked loudly, the door was answered by a native servant who bowed to Holmes and indicated that they should enter. Holmes went first, followed by Angel and Amrit. They were led through a large and ornate hallway to an upstairs room; the servant knocked gently and was requested to enter. Opening the doors, they were led into a plush dining room. They were greeted by a handsome man of about forty, with a kind face and deep brown eyes that were full of a wisdom unusual to his age.

"Mr. Sigerson," the man said extending his hand to Holmes, who shook it warmly, "How very good of you to come and you have brought guests!"

He glanced towards Angel who was still gripping Holmes' arm and Amrit, who was staring in wild eyed wonder at his surroundings.

"Yes, this is…my travelling companion Miss. Angel…. And Amrit, a boy we acquired."

"Acquired? Are you in the habit of acquiring young Indian children Mr. Sigerson?"

"Not in the habit no." Holmes smiled suavely.

The man smiled back.

"And I am Colonel Montgomery, Charles to my friends. Which is very much what I hope you will become."

He smiled at Angel who smiled back. She liked him. Holmes cleared his throat and asked if Benji had arrived yet, to which Colonel Montgomery replied that he had and was eagerly awaiting them. They were shown into a large drawing room where Benji stood to greet them.

"Mr. Sigerson!" He exclaimed upon reaching them, "Glad you're here. Angel, it's good to see you and who is this?"

He glanced towards Amrit who was looking between them all with a look of wonder and confusion written on his young features.

"This is Amrit, the man's son." Holmes answered him and a look passed between them that Angel could not identify, "Did you do what I asked Benji."

"Yes sir, it's all taken care of."

"Good."

Holmes ignored Angel's questioning look and led her to a chair. Benji sat next to her beaming and Amrit stood hesitantly on her one side. Holmes stood and gazed around the room.

"Why are we here?" Angel spoke for the first time causing both Benji and Holmes to jump at the sudden sound of her voice.

"We were invited." Holmes answered.

"It can't be just for that reason." Angel replied quietly, gazing anxiously at the growing number of guests. Benji glanced at Holmes who glanced quickly back but remained silent.

The dinner passed without event. Many questions were asked about Amrit, who was treated rather like an attraction brought for the amusement of the guests. Holmes dodged each question and replied carefully to each one. Angel became extremely protective of the boy and Benji became increasingly protective of her. It had become clear that Colonel Montgomery had taken a shine to her and Benji was keen to keep her away from him. They returned to the hotel in the early hours of the morning. Angel put Amrit in her bed and left him to sleep.

"We must leave India." Holmes said suddenly when they had relocated to his room.

"Leave? So soon and go where?" Angel asked, sitting up on the bed.

"Why now?" Benji asked seriously, there was something passing between Benji and Holmes that Angel could not understand and they were not prepared to tell her.

"They know I'm here. It isn't safe anymore."

"Where will we go?" Angel repeated her question, Holmes looked at her with something like fear present in his grey eyes.

"I don't know. Far away," He paused and Angel cast a glance at Benji who looked back at her without emotion, "Tibet."

"What?!" Benji exclaimed rising from the edge of the bed and walking over to where Holmes stood, "You'll never do it, no white man has ever got into Tibet – or at least got out alive."

"Exactly, so it is the last place they will expect me to go, especially with three children."

"I'm not a child." Benji said between clenched teeth.

Holmes gazed back at him.

"You are not coming. I will go on to Tibet, you will take Angel and Amrit back to Florence."

"No!" Benji shouted causing Angel to jump.

"Do not shout at me boy. I am telling you what is best, what you need to do to save all of your lives. I will not have your deaths on my conscience!" Holmes had a fire in his eyes that Angel had never seen before, the thought of leaving him was more than she could bear but the thought of entering Tibet scared her and she longed for home – maybe she was a child after all, she reflected. Looking back towards Holmes she caught his eye, he sighed.

"Do not think it is easy for me to leave you," Holmes said looking at her, "Any of you."

"I wont let you do it – you'll be killed, if not by Moriarty's men then by someone else. Tibet is a fool's errand." Benji had placed a hand on Holmes' arm, as if by doing this he could prevent him.

"It is the only way."

"No."

Holmes sighed again.

"We are all tired; we will discuss this in the morning."

"There is nothing to discuss, you are not going and if you do I will be with you." Benji's voice was firm; he held Holmes' eyes for a moment before nodding to Angel and disappearing to his own room. Angel stood.

"I'm sorry." She whispered as she approached him.

"Why?"

"For insisting on coming with you. You would be safer on your own."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. You have taught me many things Angel." He smiled at her and she wanted to die.

"I will leave you. If you ask it of me I will go." She looked him dead in the eyes and did not falter under his gaze. He raised her cold hand to his lips and kissed it. A single tear rolled down Angel's cheek and she left him in that dark room and spent the night in a fitful sleep with a concerned Amrit by her side, stroking her hair and whispering Hindu prayers to her that his mother used to recite to him when he cried as this poor white woman seemed to do all the time.

Oh my God how long has this update taken!? I'm sorry! If anyone is still reading this i hope you can still remember what's going on! Reviews always welcome and appreciated. Many thanks x