:)

~mistro~

~.~.~.~

After hours of searching the next morning, we had finally come across something of importance. A hatch door, to be exact. Small and wooden, just like anyone would expect a secret door to look like. However, it's appearance was shielded by leaves. We were lucky to even see it at all.

"Do you think this is actually something of importance?" Watson said, stomping on it a bit. "It seems awfully small for someone to fit into. Let alone an entire group of people." We all nodded in agreement, staring down at the little hiding spot.

I took a step closer to it. "Well, there's no sense in just standing around it. We just need to open it and go down to see what's there." A lump arose in my throat. Hearing my plans aloud was not as comforting as I thought it would have been. "Who would like to go first?" I hesitated, stepping back from the door a bit.

Holmes, without any doubt, strutted up to the door and flung the handle behind him. A cloud of dust went sending out way, trapping us all into a choking fit. "There's certainly a hint," Irene coughed, burying her face in her arm. "That door hasn't been used in ages."

"Unless there's another way to access it," Holmes mumbled as he lifted himself down the hatch.

I glanced over at Watson, who seemed just as unenthusiastic about going down there as I did. "I'm awfully tired of going into dark holes."

He nodded in agreement. "Don't even get me started." Swiftly, he tossed his hat on and followed his friend. I followed not too far behind, a sense of importance washing over me.

We all galavanted our way down, one after the other. After we were all trapped in the blackness of the Earth, we were rewarded with... "Nothing," Irene sighed, dabbing her forehead. "There's nothing here, it's just terribly warm."

"Now, how does that make sense?" Dr. Thompson questioned. "It's a very spacious area and we're underground. It should be cold if anything." The four of us gave him a look, urging him to keep talking, but he was just as confused as we were. No one had any answers.

"If I can remember correctly," I mumbled as I descended further into the darkness. "The first victims's house was in this direction." I pointed east. "If you walk that way, it gets hotter." I could have kept going, but I was too afraid. "Would anyone like to lead?"

I felt Holmes brush me, sending a little jump into my heart. I bit my bottom lip, trying not to think about last night. Even though Holmes was being his calm self, I knew he was thinking about it too. He made his way forward at a brisk pace without waiting for the rest of us. It wasn't like the sewers. There were no turns. It wasn't like the electricity stations either because there wasn't light. It was just dark. And spacious. And hot.

Overall, it was terribly uncomfortable.

"This is awful," Irene whispered to me. "It's beginning to smell too..." Her words stopped altogether as she looked into my eyes. "Rena?"

I looked over at her, pinching my nose. "What is it?"

"This smell is all too familiar..."

No part of me was willing to keep moving. I should have known. I should have recognized it, but I was just naive. "You're right," I whispered. I shot my head up towards Holmes, Watson and Thompson who were all still walking forward. "Stop!" I shouted as I rushed in their path. "Stop walking!"

Watson narrowed his eyes. Clear distress had to be evident on my face. "What is it?"

My fists clenched at my sides. "This smell. We all know it by now, don't we?" They exchanged worried glances. "Do we really need to keep walking to see what we've already seen numerous times?" Thompson took a step forward. "Dr. Thompson?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Rendale," he answered. "We need to go forward, even though we know what sight our eyes will see." He was talking about that haunting scene. The sight that I had grown all too used to in a short amount of time. A dead body. That kind of sight.

I turned around slowly to see something in the distance. It was the first victim. I bit my bottom lip in hesitation. "No, please." My voice dropped to a whisper. "Please don't make me go. I'll just stay behind."

Irene set her warm hand on my shoulder. "I'll wait here with you. I've got a fan you can use." She quickly whipped out a fan from her bosom and began to waft the air towards me. I looked at her in surprise. "One must always be prepared for the worst, dear."

Holmes smirked. "I've never seemed to follow that rule."

She scoffed, shooting him a glare. "Exactly my point. Look how you turned out."

He couldn't help but grin again, bemused by Irene Adler. Regardless, he walked forward, his long trench coat swinging valiantly behind him as he approached the dead and rotting carcass of the boy. As disturbing as it is to say, the insides were taken out, and he wasn't recognizable whatsoever. At least, that was what Holmes had told us after he returned from his inspection.

There was a long silence as we all watched Holmes walk closer towards the boy. "That's incorrect, Sherlock," Watson mumbled to himself. We all heard it and shot him a look of frustration. What did he mean by that? Why was he making things more difficult?

"Why are you making things more difficult, Doctor Watson?" Thompson ripped off his coat and began to dab his forehead. He expressed the thoughts of the rest of the group. "Let's just get out of here as quickly as possible. I'm burning up."

"No, he is very recognizable." Watson's brow rose. "I knew him."

"You knew him?" I shouted, ripping away from Irene. I suddenly didn't care about the heat or the aroma. I marched over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him as firmly in the eye as I could. "Why on Earth did you not tell us earlier?"

He blinked, cocking his head to the side. "Irrelevant. Naming off the boy's relationship with me didn't seem vital. Besides, none of the other deaths were related to me, so I didn't see the point in it. You have to understand that a doctor in London knows many people."

"Yes, but didn't you think that this might be aimed at someone you love? A friend?" I asked desperately. Being a detective made me grow more desperate. I needed answers, and I needed as much information as I could get my hands on. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Miss Adkins is right." Holmes stood up and looked at Watson and I. "Considering Doctor Thompson was in partnership with the women who were murdered, you knowing the other victim does seem quite an odd occurrence."

Watson glared towards him. "Holmes, you're clearly forgetting that Thompson is not a detective. Why would that make him a target for the murderers?"

"We're both doctors?" Thompson's confusion was apparent.

"No, it's not you." Holmes spoke softly now. There was a bitterness in his words, yet humour lingered behind it. Just looking at him made me feel weak. I had no idea what he was going to say, but sadness dancing across his eyes. He must have sensed my stare, because he caught my eyes before he spoke. "I'm the target."

I didn't care about formality anymore. I didn't care who saw me. I rushed towards him, both of my warm hands holding his face. "Holmes," I whispered, trying to calm the nerves in my voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"Simple, really," Holmes said softly as he cocked a brow. "When you lay things out, it's all very simple."

"On with it!" Irene said, impatiently.

"After the first victim was found, I saw the recognition on Watson's face. I had assumed something was placed between them, because of the hesitancy that Watson had from staring. In that respect, I went to Thompson to ask him about how to remove organs, and if he had seen any other doctors around his town dealing with them. On the note of Colonel Ellis, he was a very close friend of my brother's. The gang must have seen me discussing things with him recently, assuming that we had a friendship with one another. We do not. Therefore, they targeted him, attacking the beautiful women who he had befriended in his life."

My hand began to slide off his face as I grew more entranced in his explanation.

"In that respect, they had to transfer their ways to get from my home to the other side of town, via the sewages. Considering I had a rather large group of detectives forming around me, they began to grow clumsy with their work. Their organ removal began to grow messy and imprecise. They did not intentionally mean for us to run into them underneath London. Oh, no, they might have acted as though it was planned, but the perspiration from their faces was quite clear that they were not planning it at all."

Irene shook her head. "I just don't get what's running through his mind sometimes."

"I'm not certain that I want to," I replied.

"At any rate, we should be on the lookout." He clasped his hands together loudly. "The next target will most likely be someone associated with Miss Adkins. Considering Miss Adler does not live in town most of the time, her targets are limited."

My heart dropped. I felt my eyes grow wide, like I was seeing all of the faces of those who I loved flash before me. There weren't many. If I were to lose anyone, it would tear me apart. My knees began to buckle, but I felt someone quickly wrap their arms around my waist and press me up against them. "You have to stop them. I can't afford to lose anyone else I love." Images of my father flashed before my eyes.

"Holmes," Watson said eagerly. "How do you know they're after you? Your information was quite vague, don't you think?" Holmes held me closer as he merely shot a warning look at Watson. "Alright, not vague, but how could you possibly be certain?"

"I failed to save Emily for Jacob," he said. "He will hurt all that I care about as well, as little as our relationships might be." He looked behind him at the victim, and then back to Watson. "We must move before they strike again."

"Wait!" I shouted as the worst possible thought rushed into my head. Tears began to line the edges of my eyes. "My mother! She's not well. Her nerves..." My hands were shaking just imaging myself being alone. Totally alone. Forever alone. "She won't be able to fight the men off, even for a minute-"

"They're not going for your mother, Renadale," Holmes said with a certain nod. "It was not your mother they saw that day."

Nervously, I looked up to him. His gaze refused to look at me. "What day?"

He tried to find the proper words, but his struggle lasted a near eternity for me. Finally, he uttered the words I dreaded to hear. "Edward Brettingham."

~.~.~.~

We had finally made it out of the woods, partially because I was running frantically. Leaving the woods was much more simple than finding your way through it. God had a way of lighting my path when I knew what I wanted. I rushed to the door of the inn as fast as possible. The front desk woman tried to tell me something, but I blocked her from my mind and instantly ran up to my room. Furiously and quickly, I threw all of my belongs in my bag, getting ready to leave. Just as I was finishing up, Irene ran into my room, panting like crazy. She collapsed on my bed, but I wasn't wasting a second. "Rendale!" She shut her eyes. "Please, slow down!"

"I've got to get into town." I mumbled. I felt like things were only going faster. It was as if every second I stayed in that room was closer to Edward dying.

The door flung open with Rupert and Watson at the threshold. Watson's eyes grew wide as he noted the speed at which I was moving. I grabbed my case and walked towards the door. Both of the men unpleasantly guarded my door. "Move," I said absentmindedly. I tried to steer around them, but they didn't budge.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Rendale." Thompson warned. Aggravated, I tried once again to steer around them, but they wouldn't move.

"Let me by!" I huffed out as my brows knitted in frustration.

Holmes suddenly appeared behind them. He motioned them to get out of the way and they quickly followed orders. "A cab is already outside. I'll take you there." He looked up at the three of them. "She's right. We need to get into town as soon as possible."

He grabbed my bag and pushed me towards the stairs. That was when I knew things were urgent. Everything was spinning out of control and I had to run to catch up and stop it. My legs, feeling like limp Italian noodles from all of my running, climbed into the cab. Holmes crawled in right after me, slamming the door shut and sitting down across the way. He handed me my case, which I squeezed for comfort. My hopes were falling with every minute. He looked at me for a brief second and then redirected his gaze out the window. "Please," I choked. "Please just tell me everything will be fine."

He looked at me without turning his head. His eyes were still uncertain. I felt a cry coming up in my throat, but I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop it. I felt the hot tears pour from my face like an overfilled kettle. It wasn't supposed to be like this. After the case, I was supposed to go find Edward and marry him... love him...

Nothing ever turned out the way I planned.

~.~.~.~.~.~

We stopped in front of Edward's house as the moon hugged the sky above it. My stomach and face were sweating like a typhoid patient. My stomach was empty, but it felt full and ready to spill over. I could occasionally feel my eyes about to roll into the back of my head, but Holmes would gently pat me on the thigh to keep me focused. I thought I'd be okay by the time we reached his house.

I wasn't.

I felt more dead than the victims.

"Renadale," Holmes said sternly. I'm not sure how many times he'd been saying it as I had been tuning him out for quite some time. "You're... You're not..." He grumbled and sent a firm slap to my cheek. "Renadale, you're not breathing."

His words made me aware of my growing pain. My eyes darted around the carriage. "I've got to get out of here," I murmured. "I don't want to go in there, though." My eyes pleadingly met his. His dark hair blended in with the seat and his pale face made him seem ghostly as he peered at me. "Go in there. Tell me what you see."

"Renadale..." His voice was uncertain.

"Please!" I fell over as more tears came from my face. I felt my head hit his legs, but I didn't move myself. His hand gently found my hair for a brief and awkward moment. Eventually, he lifted my face.

"Don't leave this carriage," he said sternly. "I mean it." And with that he left. Leaving me an empty seat and my tears.

~.~.~.~

Holmes POV

I hadn't been waiting this whole time to tell them on purpose. No. I owed it to Miss Adkins to go and find this boy in whatever condition he may be. That was one thing that I could honestly say I wasn't sure of. When we were walking in the direction of the whore house, when that Edward fellow had stopped us short to gleam upon Renadale, I had noticed peculiarly that a couple of gentlemen had stopped what they were doing to focus on the couple. Not just Renadale, as I had originally thought. Rather, both of them. As one.

I had only taken too long to realize it.

All of this was finding it's way into my mind as I ascended the large staircase leading up to the Brettingham door. No one was to be seen. No mother. No maids. Certainly no Edward. I felt my pace slow down. I didn't want to find him any more than she did. Telling Renadale that he was gone could possibly destroy her. Unfortunately, I had volunteered myself to be the one to begin her demise.

I was not good at confessing things. I had merely, simply, and easily lost that curious and peculiar young woman to a man who I deemed much more worthy of her than I. I suppose, in my jealous (which I was finding increasingly more difficult to hide from her than most) nature I had somewhat pulled her away from him.

I was not a religious man, but I might have been praying at that moment when I entered the unlocked door.

No one was to be seen. The candles were burnt as low as they could be. I could feel myself breathing far more heavily than I normally would have on any other occasion. My feet were seeming to control my body. I couldn't feel or sense where I was going or what I was doing. It was just happening. My body directed me towards the stairs.

An odour.

That odor. I knew in a second that I couldn't take another step further. I had to go be with Miss Adkins...

Renadale.

Her name is Renadale.

She asks me to call her that every time and I never listen to her. I will listen to her. I will be there for her. Swiftly, my feet turned and I rushed out of the house as quickly as I could. I made my way back to the cab, only to see her on the seat, sobbing.

~.~.~.~

Renadale POV

I saw him come running out. My heart was no longer in my chest. It had left with Edward. The loss of him suddenly came down upon me stronger than I had ever even felt towards him. I had expectations for us... Such high expectations, and that was my problem.

I heard the carriage door open and slam. I felt it move. I could hear gravel popping from underneath the wheels and the hooves. I felt strong arms scoop me up and pull me to the other side of the carriage. I felt my hands read someone's face. I could see a man whose eyes were just as sad and empty as mine looking back at me with enormous affection.

Was it affection I saw?

I could feel strong hands pressing me to a soft body. I could hear nothing but the gravel popping. I felt my own two lips press themselves against the man's neck. I could sense that it wasn't Edward.

I couldn't feel the edge of the balcony that Edward and I had stood on once. I couldn't see that charming, white smile he would shoot me every time he saw me. I couldn't feel the love he carried for me so briefly anymore, the love that had been oozing out of him. I couldn't imagine his touch.

I couldn't.

I couldn't.