Hi guys!

Two weeks and no updates! I should be beat with a two by four, I know. I am so so sorry everybody! Ya'll have been so great and given me such awesome reviews, I am truly ashamed of myself. I went on vacation last week and just got sidetracked from there.

Plus, I'm a huge Phantom phan, and I've recently discovered that the "Phantom of the Opera" section has some pretty good stories! So I must admit I've been somewhat slack. But I'm back now! This chapter is partly slower, but this is near the ending so we're winding down. I think all that's left is a bit of clearing up in the epilogue. I hope ya'll aren't too disappointed with this ending, but to be painfully honest I really wasn't enitirely sure how to defeat my own villain! Sad, I know. lol

Thanks so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

-VHunter :)

"A Matter Of Caste"

Chapter Thirteen: Consequential Choices

"I must say that you've done far better than I should have expected, Sherlock Holmes. I see you unfortunately sustained some small injury." Lord Hollingsworth said, with a gesture toward Holmes' bloodied arm.

"And you've sunk farther than I would've ever surmised, Hollingsworth. Exacting your petty revenge using children. I would have preferred you face me yourself."

"I've not harmed the child a wit."

"No, you merely took advantage of her situation when you should have put an immediate stop to it. If only your adoring public could see you now, engrossed in your true profession."

"In my actions I have done nothing but attempt to protect my country from misguided fools who think they know how better to run it. You are a threat to the well being of England! You place the contentment of the people before the well being of the nation itself!"

I could not help but respond. "The nation is the people! What else have we to protect? Lives should be considered over political frustration. Yet, you trample over the loss of life as if it were a mere figure on a scale!"

"Enough, Watson. Nothing you have to say will effectively alter the course of his mind. His conscience was seared long ago."

His lordship sighed as if bored by the entire affair. "I shall be delighted to discuss my moral state whenever you wish once you and your associate are safely behind bars. Now, put the girl down and step away."

Jeanne Marie held tightly to Holmes' coat and looked up at him to view his response. He said nothing, only looked on defiantly. Lord Hollingsworth raised his weapon to eye level.

"Set her down or I shall be forced to shoot you myself."

"Would you?"

I gave them no opportunity to find out. Not stopping to think, I fired my last round directly at our nemesis. Lord Hollingsworth clutched at his chest; a look of pure shock marring his features, and fell to the ground.

I stood stock still, petrified to think that I might have killed him. I looked down to find that my hands were trembling. Holmes grasped my shoulder.

"I'm sorry Holmes, but-"

"My dear Watson, do not apologize, I beg of you. There was nothing else to be done. But he may yet live; I do not think you've struck his heart."

I knelt beside the prostrate figure, attempting to push aside the bombardment of images that assaulted my mind. If he were dead, I could easily be hung for it. Holmes might be charged as an accomplice, what would happen to the child? Taking a deep breath I turned him over and felt for a pulse. I faint throbbing met my finger tips.

"He's alive!" I fairly shouted.

"Thank God." Holmes joined me upon the ground, looking over the man. "But only just. Quick Watson! Can you carry him?"

"Yes, I think so."

With Lord Hollingsworth laid as gently as possible over my shoulder, I followed Holmes out onto the streets. We met no one, as it was half past one in the morning.

Holmes, still carrying the child, managed to find a cab. I placed my burden inside and shut the door.

" Charing Cross Hospital, cabby, and be swift for your passenger is gravely injured!" I urged as Holmes paid the driver in advance.

We were compelled to traverse two blocks before we located a second cab. Hailing this, we made for Baker Street.

It was a silent journey homeward. Holmes sat lost in his own musings, and Jeanne Marie, finally feeling at least somewhat safe, drifted off to a contented sleep upon Holmes' shoulder. I was more than willing to keep company with my own thoughts and amazement at our severely narrow escape.

Had it not been for McKee's interference, Holmes would surely have been dead or at least seriously injured before I could have reached them. I prayed the man would not suffer greatly for his compassionate decision.

The clock struck two as we alighted. I was never so glad to reach our rooms. Holmes went directly to his bedroom to lay down the sleeping girl. My gaze drifted to her dirty little night dress now also stained with blood.

"Holmes, surely we should-"

"No, I'll not wake her. She's been through quite enough for one night." He whispered and motioned me out, closing the door behind us.

Upon returning to the sitting room I made a move to check Holmes' injuries but he waved me off.

"Please Watson, it is nothing. Mere scratches."

"Holmes, you must at least allow me to look at your arm. You've lost far more blood than mere scratches would permit."

He grudgingly acquiesced. I was grateful to find that though the gashes inflicted by Smithers' knife were fairly deep, no muscle had been torn and should heal nicely in time.

Having cleaned and bandaged the wounds, I poured myself a drink and sat near the cold fireplace. Neither of us possessed the energy to light it. Holmes took his pipe from the rack and collapsed upon the sofa with a deep sigh.

"I suppose it is foolish to hope we've seen the end of this affair?" I ventured.

"I see no reason why that should be so. The Duke is incapable of charging us with anything as it would reveal the truth of his own crimes. Prince Edward will take no action in fear of his precious reputation. And I should say neither of them will permit Lord Hollingsworth to make any mention of the past proceedings. Though in his case our actions could easily be proved as self defence. You need not let it concern you."

"But Holmes, you will eventually have to take the child back. Surely you must realize that."

"To what end, Watson? What good would I have then accomplished? In removing her from one worthless parent only to give her to another; who's to say this exact process won't be repeated numerous times over?"

"Holmes, she's their child."

"I will not take her back."

"That's kidnapping!"

"Then I am a kidnapper." He stated with a definite air of finality.

The subject was closed for discussion and well I knew it.

"Then just what do you intend to do with a six year old child? You cannot be thinking of keeping her here!?"

"Really Watson, I am not so great a fool. Prince Edward will certainly attempt to reclaim her should she remain within his reach. Thus she cannot stay in London. Tomorrow morning I will remove her to a location where I may be certain that she will unharmed, undetected, and well cared for."

"Holmes, if they do manage to somehow find her, the consequences-"

"Watson...I will not leave her at their mercy again...I cannot."

I understood his point, I even agreed with his reasons. But this course of action was so terribly dangerous for all involved. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps it would be more of a sin to return her than to keep her. I was far too exhausted at the time to be certain of anything.

Draining my glass, I rose to take my leave.

"Very well, Holmes. I shall abide by your wishes."

"I thank you, Watson...and Watson?"

"Yes?"

"Your contributions in this undertaking were greatly appreciated. You've again proved yourself quite the invaluable friend and assistant."

"You're certainly welcome, Holmes. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

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I'd not been asleep for more than a few hours when I was awakened by the vicious shaking of our housekeeper. Our recent perils still quite fresh in my mind, I was at once alert.

"What is it Mrs. Hudson? What's happened?"

"I know Mr. Holmes has been involved in some secretive business lately, but I simply must know just what he's up to, in light of the circumstances!"

"Mrs. Hudson, whatever are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about!? Why, you just come and see for yourself, Doctor!" She said, tugging on my sleeve.

Donning my dressing gown, I wearily followed her down to the sitting room.

"You just do me the kindness of explaining that!" She whispered while pointing to the sofa.

The sight that met my eyes was one that I could be certain to never see again. Had I not seem them for myself I should never have been persuaded to believe it.

Sherlock Holmes lay asleep upon the sofa, his pipe fallen to the carpet. Sprawled over his chest, also very much asleep, was Jeanne Marie. Her little arms were wrapped securely about his neck, a gentle smile over her features. She was no longer afraid. Holmes was right. She'd been through so much, how could we, in good conscience; deliberately return her to such a position? We would do what we must, and pray that God would see fit to bless our efforts.

As I turned to follow our housekeeper from the room, I could not help but smile. It would seem that at least one woman had succeeded in reaching his heart.