Don't own anything except original characters. All material (c) to respective owners. I write these for fun and make no profit. They're just random plot bunnies that live within my strange mind
A/N: Yeah I know, it's been forever...I apologize but real life happens. Now I'm posting again, so look forward to updates and maybe some new stories as soon as I get them recovered from my flashdrive along with all of my school work. _. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.
Chapter 14: The effect of Phatoms
"Sherlock!" Waiting a minute I got no response and considered my words.
"Sherlock, aggressor downstairs at the main door!" A few minutes of silence and I saw him come from the far part of the room and stand there looking half dressed.
"Nanny holding him off?"
"With difficulty." He nods moving past me quickly to the doorway and out into the hall. "Be-
"Nanny, shut the door!" the distraction worked and Mrs. Hudson did just that. "Isabella, we should exit rapidly."
"Where?" I had learned one thing, exits weren't necessarily up to the codes of my time.
Sherlock gripped my hand and led the way to the kitchen, there was a service entrance and instead of letting either of us go out into a possible trap we both seemed to stop at the same time. Clearly both of us having similar thoughts-he slowy moved to the window glancing briefly through the small glass frame and made a face, it must have meant the drawback of someone guarding the back way. I stood there glancing up when Mrs. Hudson come in looking ruffled and worried.
"I understand why you feel Scotland yard's finest is inept in their job." I mutter watching him smile humorlessly in agreement. "Where did John go off to?"
"Lestrade," I chuckle wryly at the irony. "I expected them later, they appear to be in a hurry." I look at him wondering if it means that he knew this was coming, I also wonder if these guys jumped the gun.
That wouldn't be good if Sherlock was correct about their all great maniacal leader.
Sherlock stood there and I knew that we would be fine. He had a knack for getting out of the worst situations whether by the skin of his teeth or just damn lucky. My concern was for Mrs. Hudson, she was an innocent bystander in this and I really didn't want her hurt. Looking to my side I could see her wringing her hands and knew she was afraid. Putting on a brave face was one thing, pretending that she was utterly fine with someone trying to bust in both doors made me admire her strength.
"Wouldn't they have been seen by the officers running the street?" she finally asked after a few minutes of fretting.
I looked seeing Sherlock's dark eyes held a certain answer which I am fairly sure she didn't want to hear. Those particular officers were most likely distracted elsewhere, this was planned-though I had to wonder how they would know we were on our own? He seemed to have an answer to this too, I could see his expression turn serious-more than it already was-it must have meant someone wasn't exactly on the right side of the law or the house was being watched at a safe distance.
Deliveries, milkmen, mail and the like were suspect. Anyone that didn't fit the usual procession of people on Baker Street were suspect and unfortunately I had a feeling that I had just become suspect. Sherlock was staring at me hard, saving someone and doing all I had would be the ideal cover. It wouldn't be the first time that Moriarty had tried to play him for a fool with a woman-though I wasn't have as clever as Irene Adler. I still knew that he would put that in his thoughts, scrutinizing every detail and analyzing every move he had made since the day I pulled him out of the river.
I looked him dead in the eye and saw him watch me with a familiar probing stare. I didn't know if he would believe that I had nothing to do with this or not. I cared for him despite him not getting my brand of human condition. I had learned a lot in my short time with Sherlock and I wasn't willing to roll over and let these villains ruin what I was fighting to win over. He seemed to finish evaluating my involvement in this and looked to Mrs. Hudson. He walked over to her and defined that she should go into the basement and barricade herself inside, there would be no reason to search for her if she wasn't present during any incident with those outside. I noticed for the first time the kitchen was laid out in the most simplistic style of cupboards with counter and then the middle had a preparation counter in the middle of it. She went to the door off to the side of the paneled kitchen, a stark contrast from the heavily patterned wallpapered rooms and did exactly as he asked.
I wait seeing him go back to the door before I dare to come up to his side. "What changed your mind about me Sherlock?" I see him tilt his head as if hesitating on an answer, I know though he's contemplating something that won't get him slapped.
He investigates those outside taking in the present way out and if we can make it. "Watson."
I blink at the answer before finding myself utterly confused. How would John make him change his mind when he isn't even here with us? I remember back to earlier that day when John left the office going to find Lestrade, he had been angry and that had been clearer than anything. I wondered then about the conversation I had with him in the carriage running errands all over town and blushed wondering if the good Watson went all chivalry because of his nature?
A small chuckle drew my attention to being studied closely again. I didn't find this at all entertaining but said nothing seeing him slowly grip the door handle. "It is time to put those skills of yours to use I'm afraid Bella, we have fight our way out." I groan glancing out the door and see him smile though he's deadly serious.
"Let's have at it." He nods watching the men outside and then looks down at the door.
I hear him turn the handle and smile when he slams it into one of the intruders outside. Seeing someone come off to his side I slam an elbow into their face and then catch them in the stomach, he's busy enough and I continue by slamming both fists into the guy below me. He goes down hard and I look up in time to see another coming my direction. Sherlock is catching the two after him blow for blow. I see the one at my side is coming with something in his hand, a glint. I dodge right seeing a knife fly out missing my side and bring my foot down on his instep. I follow through lifting my fist watching him crumple before I get a hit off.
John passes me without a word and goes to Sherlock's aid. I hear them fight behind me watching their backs in case more come at them. I move sideways at a called warning from Sherlock and see a guy fly past me hitting the ground with a light bounce. I turn seeing John slam another into the wall and watch him drop. I feel an arm rest around my waist seeing Sherlock has a cut at his lip and is gripping his side though he seems in good shape. At most Watson looks ruffled and upset, I hear a few people running and all of us tense up before spotting Lestrade and some of his finest, yet late officers.
"Scotland yards finest, late for the worst part." I stifle laughter at his less than amused tone and reach into my pocket fishing out a handkerchief placing it to his lip. "Ow."
"Lump it." He smiles as I gently wipe the blood from his lip. "We're alive and well…thanks John." I add seeing him nod though he's distracted examining the carnage at our feet of about six men.
I silently watch Lestrade and his men collecting those sprawled at our feet while Sherlock shares as little as possible over the assault. In this instance I see John watching me suspiciously, like I knew what Sherlock wasn't telling them. Clark had been the one to arrive last with another group of men and was looking at the men claiming that I wasn't a lady like they were insane. Enough people knew of my origins, Sherlock, Mycroft and John were plenty-I suspected Mary would be made aware at some point. During the chaos of the moment I find myself led off to the side and refuse to imply any less of my feminine nature because Sherlock had enough to explain-rather avoid-Clark led me inside the house and out into the sitting room which I had yet to visit. Mrs. Hudson had been led out of the basement and talked to softly in the kitchen as I walked by.
I find myself led to a love seat in the large sitting room. Peering around I see another flower patterned wall with a massive fireplace in the center of the room and a few odd and end things to make it welcoming. I glance into the flames before down at the floor seeing an intricate oriental rug covering a hardwood floor and see Clark stand there as if worried over my delicate nature-which I have none-he seems satisfied before asking me a few questions and then leaving me to ponder the absence of everyone that makes me feel at all safe. I stare around seeing small tables with an odd assortment of plants, knickknacks and then a few of Mrs. Hudson's decorative touches here and there. The strange thing is that the only room that seems at all like Sherlock is his study or room. I only had seen the previous and didn't dare think about the later.
"Isabella?" I jump stifling the urge to shriek and look to the doorway where John is standing watching me with those sky colored eyes, there is a lot of various suspicions and emotions in his face. "Can I speak honest with you? Though I don't think you will like what I say much."
"Feel free." I see him smile though it is solemn.
"I understand that you have serious feelings for Holmes. I have no doubt of that in my mind, however…I see the real aspect of what it can do to you. He isn't quite knowledgeable on the complexity of human emotion and your going to get hurt. You may know that but I don't think it is fair to you." I look at him seeing a certain perception that must have rubbed off from Sherlock at one point-though I doubt John has gotten credit for it.
Sitting there I take comfort in his concern and his knowing of Sherlock's inexperience with the human complex. I know he's right, he's putting it as kindly as possible that what I wish to find in Sherlock could very well be impossible. He is pointing out that no matter how I feel with Sherlock that there is the risk of being miserable because I would have to define every detail of human emotion I could. I would be initially telling someone over and over again of my feelings which they could not comprehend. I would be the unsolvable case for Sherlock, it would drive him mad and yet I still wanted to try. I cared for Sherlock, I liked his neurotic nature, his bad habits, his sarcasm and his unusual ways.
"I know where you're coming from, though things aren't always fair. I care enough to keep trying. Does that make me a complete idiot?" he studies me for a little bit before shaking his head and crossing his arms.
"No it doesn't, it just means that you're an in love woman that has a fool for a man." I laugh standing from the love seat and watch as officers begin to leave the premises.
Lestrade caught my attention before he seems perturbed and exits the house, a few minutes later Sherlock comes casually to the doorway glancing in to see what we had been doing and seems content though I suspect he ticked off Lestrade. John stands there looking at him very closely and then I see what is about to happen and mentally groan. I look back at the fireplace hearing a distinct argument about Sherlock's lack of information before being blind sided by John and looking up.
"You're lucky she cares for you. I believe Lestrade would have liked to take you in and put you under a less than kind form of inquiry. He was probably afraid of upsetting Isabella's delicate nature, however I doubt she is at all soft." I'm grateful for the fact he was kind enough to at least acknowledge that I wasn't a complete weakling.
Sherlock looked at him in a less than pleased way, he then seemed to look uncertain and then caught himself hesitating. "He doesn't believe that Moriarty is alive, those men you came upon assaulting us may have been imprudent in their methods. Moran isn't that careless." John nodded in agreement though now he looked more troubled than annoyed.
I could only imagine what the two were thinking, soon they began to discuss the welfare of remaining at Baker Street and the best motions to take in sorting out this ever growing mystery. I let them discuss their matters while my mind drifted to thoughts of more pleasant times, the growing affection I had developed for Sherlock and the whole idea that a great friend had been caught in this mess by coincidence. I blink surprised by where my thoughts lead me and stood up moving slowly toward the two talking men. Both paused when I approached and Sherlock lifted a brow quizzically at me. I feel his arm come to rest gently around my waist before John smiled just slightly.
"You always said that you don't believe in coincidence." Sherlock nods looking as if he's waiting for something to happen. "Why did they hurt Lillianna and not even direct their attention to finding you?" I detect a mild discomfort seeing that must have crossed his mind-naturally one step ahead of me-still he didn't look like he wished to answer.
John watched his friend with inquiring icy eyes before he realized that for once his friend didn't wish to be blunt, however he knew that it was hard for him to be anything but. It meant something that he wasn't sure was possible but he kept the idea safely tucked away to analyze later, for now they had enough to concentrate on.
"I don't think we should focus on this right now." Sherlock managed seeing John looking between them expectantly. "We should find where those men came from, if they moved too soon they won't be around to answer many questions in the near future." I wanted to ask more but knew he was right, the idea of loose ends didn't appeal to either of the villains in this story.
I nod though I will approach him on his lack of forthcoming in the future. For now we have a lot to do and not much time. I find myself being led to the door and John tailing though he looks lost in thought. Hoping that it isn't serious I smile before we're out on the main walkway and walking slowly to a vehicle. I pause staring at the small car and remember the machine from the movie, though it looks better in person I am betting it is a lot louder and smokes worse in person too. I glance sideways seeing Sherlock smiling amused at my uncertain look. John opens the passenger door and is surprised when Sherlock tells him he is driving. I see him look inside the car and then gauge his friends before it looks as if he realizes something. I glance inside seeing that it is small, barely can fit two people and that's when it hits.
"What are you implying Sherlock?" he sees John duck into the drivers side before he comes to the door and slides inside. "Did you forget that I'm tall?" I ask though in relevance he's taller than I am, I'm just considering the physics of smacking my head.
He ignores my meek protest and takes my hand guiding me inside the vehicle. Climbing onto his lap I notice that I will avoid hitting my head unless we end up having to hit some heavy holes or something. I purposely turn glaring into those dark eyes and see that self-satisfied smile before sighing. John I can see is trying not to laugh though he is having no luck at keeping a straight face anymore than the man I claim to care for. I feel like I'm an inside joke, though I know that isn't necessarily their intention. Like I suspect the first thing I hear is a the popping of the motor before smoke comes out the back. It is definitely loud in person and I flinch at the sharp noise. Glancing down Sherlock looks pensive despite the awkwardness of riding in the car with more passengers than it is intended for. I wonder where we're going-not like I asked-still watching people peer at us on our way by and the odd assorted looks I smile. He could care less of the standard expectations of the car and people's popular opinion, unfortunately it also makes us conspicuous. We are a moving target for either Moran or those he hired-I keep pretending that Moriarty isn't alive. Sherlock however seems certain he may have survived, however I doubt it is in the same condition that the man near me did. I would be willing to wager that Moriarty if he survived didn't do well among the cold waters and harsh elements.
I find the ride intriguing more or less due to the difference between this vehicle and the fast paced ones of my time that I'm used to. "He's alive, I can feel it and that doesn't bode well for society or the world. The America's are weak after their civil war and Europe is just ready for a larger battle than the last. It would be perfect for him to start plotting anew." I look down seeing he hadn't meant for the thoughts to be shared aloud and see John's amusement at our awkward state fade.
"Trusting your instincts is a good thing." I remark leaning on his head aware of his arm reaching around my waist with the other. "I just hope he's in worse shape than you ended up." I hear him chuckle though there isn't a lot of humor in it.
"You and I both." I kiss his head despite the onlookers and feel content regardless of the way we define any form of the human condition.
We drive for quite awhile soon I smell the faint scent of fish and am aware of the ocean coming from somewhere. Looking around I see warehouses, work houses, dry docks and the like. I know that this is a good place to look because ships were the main form of transport in this time and someone would have noticed at least something, if not Moran or a hurt gentlemen. Stopping the car John climbs out before I follow suit feeling stiff from the long ride and see Sherlock pause glancing around at the various activity. The first thing I notice is a small fish market off to the side and various odd and end shops behind us. I stretch before crossing my arms aware of a few unpleasant looks from people before rubbing my eyes resting my fingers at the bridge of my nose.
I still wasn't the keenest on this time period and probably made myself stand out quite a bit wearing pants but it was more convenient than wiping out in a dress and having it used against me in a fight. Sherlock ignored the stares, the disapproval and the few that seemed shocked by my appearance. He instead moved slowly toward the warehouses following a path that led to an office in the distance. I guessed the harbor master, John followed behind his eyes sharp and tense. I could see he was worried about this adventure into such a touchy area, all we seemed to find lately is people that wanted to throttle us or make our days very unpleasant to say the least.
We didn't need this kind of attention we were receiving even I could tell it was bothering my two companions. Seeing a shop off to the side that sold material I whispered something to Sherlock seeing his agreed with my idea and smiled ducking inside. A few minutes later I came out wearing material that semi-matched my shirt and made it appear that I was wearing a dress, that way I could just pull it aside and fight if I needed with no fuss. It also on the plus side kept the curious onlookers from paying more attention to us than need be.
The idea that Sherlock was sure someone saw something didn't bother Watson or me, what worried us both was the likelihood of being attacked before we got any leads. Sometimes reason failed Sherlock, in fact more times than not the risks he took would lead to something a lot more disastrous than a scuffle outside a fighting place. Sherlock reached out his arm and pulled Isabella close to his side, Watson observing the action wondered if maybe her determination was making him get the concept of at least human possession. If she tried enough she may succeed in getting him to at least comprehend some sort of the human condition.
"Watson what do you notice?" John looks around carefully at the businesses and noticed the large fish market over in the warehouse was closed down.
"That isn't good for business," John pointed seeing Sherlock smile though his eyes gave away that this wasn't the only thing to notice.
I looked around seeing that the dry dock near the fish market was closed up and could see that this must have meant something. Why would to business's be closed down that were almost on top of each other with all these people seeking the supply and demand? They needed to be open there clearly was a need for them, though she had seen busier places since she had been in London with Sherlock. He paused waiting for her to say something, the unnerving way he was watching her meant he expected her to be more constructive in this case.
"Ok why don't you just ask?" she muttered getting John's attention. "He's indicating the empty fish market like you observed and the abandoned dry dock beside it. A perfect hideout for a villain and…isn't that a medical vessel?" she noticed something in the shadows seeing Sherlock's smile though more subtle now that she caught what he had initially wanted.
"Good show Isabella." John congratulated before realizing the 'medical' part in the observation and groaning. "That bloody demon of a man did survive." Sherlock didn't indicate yay or nay with this.
Instead of continuing the conversation Sherlock gently directed me to Watson's side and moved over starting toward the smaller fish markets. I wanted to go with him but instead remained as I was exchanging confused looks with John. I had a nagging feeling he was going of on his own, without anyone to watch him and that never led to good things at all. John read my mind and looked on in distaste before reaching into his jacket and handing me a revolver as well as lifting one of his own. I didn't know the first thing about guns, I didn't know how to fire them. I didn't even know if there was safety features in this time period. Reluctantly I held the firearm in my hand eyeing the cold metal object with distaste before watching Watson take it and show me how to use it. He then trusted it was enough information and expected me to have his back.
Terrified would be the polite term when I held this object of violence. Those that knew how to handle them were more often than not the ones that usually did the worst or the best with them. What would I do with one? A novice that never fired one in her own time let alone this time? I pushed aside my panic for one purpose, these two men were my friends and needed my help despite whatever doubts I had. I put those distressed girlie thoughts aside and focused on one thing, watching John's back.
Walking the long paths of the fish markets near the two abandoned building my nose was assaulted with rotted fish, fresh fish, and other smells. I could smell metal being worked, the faint scent of coal, ash and hints of smoke and lastly something underlying near the shady lower areas hidden among the basements of this booming area. I guessed they may have been opium dens, I recalled the history of the use of illegal drugs from my time as health medicines as well as recreation. Shaking aside my historical analogy I follow John down a dark alleyway-the place where we always find trouble-he pauses long enough to glance about before looking vexed.
I suspect that Sherlock has given us both the slip; he still knew more about my human condition than I liked and took liberties with assuming my lack of control. Perhaps he was also compensating for John's natural instinct to protect him? Pushing aside more troubled thoughts he leans casually against the wall at my side muttering unpleasant obscenities about how Sherlock took too many risks with no plans of protection.
"Like having a meat hook stuck in his arm? Nearly bleeding to death? Jumping from miles to falls below?" I countered equally annoyed with our dear detective.
"That's the short list." John answered his lips lifting in amusement glad someone else had gotten to understand his less than desirable traits. "There was a boat incident, explosion and…I think you know enough that this conversation would last as long as it takes for us to find him and him to get into more trouble." She nodded seeing him look back and forth trying to choose a direction to go.
"He was seeking someone." I said-how I knew it was even unknown to me-looking up I see John nod in agreement before glancing in the direction of the abandon business's. "He ditched us."
"Yes, he in fact did abandon us to seek out his own ideals. The standard when working with Holmes is the lack of time he gives you to be ahead of him or help." He rubbed the back of his neck before the two of us darted back the way we had come.
This time though John led the charge and made showed a new path to get to where we started. The back way is littered with garbage, junk and old refuse but I move on wondering if I just happened in this world to be with the one person that may understand my madness as well as looking for someone other than John to get his? John was now married, who was left for Sherlock to understand him as well, to put up with his late night rants, strange expiraments and his other assorted nonsense? The answer I came to realize was me. I had been there when he was trying to sort this whole case out, I had gotten under his skin and made him turn me into some mega case. In this whole thing somehow I was playing a part as well as helping him solve the greatest case of all time. Whether his nemesis did survive or if this was an elaborate hoax and someone had taken his place.
I stop rushing to catch up with John watching him take down an unsuspecting guard knocing him out before he freezes with someone coming up at his side. I dodge into the shadows seeing John slowly turn his eyes darting around almost hopefully before he seems disappointed. I feel wretched at the defeat in his expression and mentally kick myself for not giving him some sort of signal I had his back. I watch his attacker slowly lift something and react by reaching into my makeshift skirt pulling the gun out. I walk carefully to this guys side and level the gun at his back pulling back the hammer like John had shown me.
"I don't think that is a good idea." I see John look pleased and recovering from his slight letdown before dodging sideways avoiding the attacker and doing the last thing I could think of.
Yanking off the material around my waist I throw it over his head and watch John tackle the fool to the ground. The gun never goes off and the body writhering under the material stills in minutes. John climbs to his feet with another gun in his possession and looking none the worse than he usually does. I am astounded by his resilliance despite his military injury and lack of being active with Holmes during his pretenses of being deceased.
"I'm sorry Isabella,"
"No reason for you to apologize, you know little about me and I know little about guns. We're both learning." I step aside indicating he should lead the way, he does so saying no more on his momentary lack of faith and continues to lead the way around the dry dock.
This is the place where the medical vessel had been situated. I can see the back part of it floating in the shadows and peer around for signs of other guards. A movement caught my eye and I see John move forward also aware of the blue of movement. We both decend the steep slope to the side of the massive building set back in gloom and in disrepair, the worst of the situation appears to be a lack of identifiable guards. The silence in unnerving, when things are this quiet the end results are never good. I grip John's shoulder stopping his sudden descent when his bad leg gives, it alerts him enough to regain his footing. He looks up with thanks in his expression before leading the way to one of the workers entrances. It's black inside, abandoned by its trade and workers all I can make out is chains, the frames to hold the ships to work on and several long forgotten assorted crates. This dry dock couldn't have been inactive for very long.
I see darkness-a literal fog like black ink has settled in the building- finding this difficult to swallow I know that somewhere there has to be light. This is too distressing to be a lead to nowhere. Hands settle on my waist and around my mouth before I can cry out to Watson. I fight finding it hard when this person seemed well aware of knowing what I was capable of. Though I find this mildly alarming and venture to grip the hand tightly around my waist. The familiar feel of rough material and the roughness of the cheek next to mine makes me think of Sherlock. I relax smelling the familiar spicy tobacco and immediately stop wriggling. He relaxes his hand, I ignore the calming effect and gently bite down on the hand in warning.
"Is that necessary Bella?"
"You scared the hell out of me and left John unguarded." I ignore his exasperated tone before finding myself pushed into the shadows of some crates linning what appeared to be an office.
There isn't an office manager, what I did find was a man poisoned. I gather it wasn't long ago and that it is similar to that which was performed on your friend." Lillianna flashed through my thoughts before I turn sharply glaring into those intent dark eyes.
"You keep reminding me of that and we're going to have a less than pleasant discussion on how secrets are a bad thing to use around…me." I yank him down seeing something flash in the darkness-I have no clue where a light source it-though after spotting it I hear a sharp sound of gunfire go off. "John's out there alone." I remind him still frustrated with him.
Being reminded of that and knowing my tone he sighs standing before giving me instructions. I hate feeling like some girl being ordered around by an overbearing man-unfortunately I am in that particular position-I find myself told to stay where I am and use the windows to my advantage in case someone attacks them from behind. I'm to back them up if I can and curse when Sherlock takes the gun John gave me tucking it in the waist of my pants before handing me something a bit on the larger side.
I have no idea how he expects me to use this-it is a straight shot rifle with a guide-though I have no clue how to use this to my advantage I find the scope useful giving me sights on John and Sherlock who is rapidly catching up to his friend. Scanning the rest of the enclosed area I find very little of interest, brief glimpses of the mechanics of the dry dock are all around but I see no people. Moving along with their progress I make one mistake-not going with the movie typical rules-turning sharply at the defined sound of something metallic I see someone out of the corner of my eye and duck before turning sharply. I fire hoping that I hit this person and hear a low snarl of a male voice before wisely getting better cover behind the desk-though being near the body does little to comfort me.
Sherlock's POV
He turned sharply at the sound in the office moving to go back the way he had come before smacking into John. Both exchanged looks with each other before the latter lead the charge, however Sherlock felt discomfort knowing that he very well could have miscalculated her ability to defend herself and that made him move faster. Both men turned the corner at the same time before Sherlock swiftly dodged back seeing John turn sharply as the attacker fired at them.
"Where is Isabella?" John demanded worried that they had lost her already during the chaos.
"In there." John looked completely infuriated before turning outward and aiming. "She has two weapons."
"She didn't know how to fire the hand pistol, how do you think she would do with a larger weapon?" Sherlock knew that but had calculated her insticts into the factor, he hoped that would be enough. "Holmes…if you have any sort of interest in that woman you had better shoot."