Hey guys! This story is now legally allowed to drink in my country!
Quick thing: 15-20th of this month, I may not be able to write, because I may be going to Chicago with my amazing friend who invited me to go with her family, so updates again may be slower than normal.
Anyway, here is the chapter, and I hope you enjoy!
"I'll be mother." Mycroft said, referencing the old superstition that only one person-usually the mother-in a household can pour tea , and the person pouring it is "Being mother".
"And there's a whole childhood in a nutshell." Sherlock said with a small sigh. Mycroft glared at him and put down the teapot.
"My employer has a problem." The equerry said to Sherlock.
"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft explained.
"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock asked.
"People do come to you for help, don't they Mr. Holmes?" The equerry asked.
"Not to date anyone with the navy."
"This is a matter of highest security, therefore trust." Mycroft explained.
"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" I asked.
"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." I tried to hold back an amused smile.
"I do think we have a time table." The equerry said to Mycroft.
"Yes, of course, um…" He opened his briefcase and took out photographs, handing them to Sherlock. I leaned over to look at them as well, before, awkwardly, looking away, sending a glare at Mycroft, who glared back at me.
"What do you know about this woman?" he asked Sherlock.
"Nothing whatsoever."
"Thank goodness." I mumbled.
"Then you should be paying more attention."
"No I don't think so." John sent a look my way, but I ignored it. Mycroft seemed to hear me, but the equerry didn't.
"She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants, separately."
"Awesome." I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. John then bumped my leg with his, sending me a questioning look. Again, I ignored him.
"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock asked his brother.
"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman."
"Professionally?" I asked.
"There are many names for what she does, though she prefers 'dominatrix'.
Oh this is going to be a fun case….note the sarcasm.
"Dominatrix." Sherlock repeated, going through the photos.
"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex."
"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock responded.
"How would you know." I had to hold back a laugh at Mycroft's comment, while Sherlock only glared up at his brother.
"She provides-shall we say-recreational scolding, for those who enjoy that sort of thing, and are prepared to pay for it."
"So, she's basically a glorified prostitute. Can't wait to meet her." I said, bitterly.
"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?" Sherlock guessed.
"You're very quick, Mr. Holmes." the equerry complimented.
"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?"
"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say more at this time." The equerry answered.
"You can't tell us anything?" John asked, and Sherlock put the photos on the table.
"I can tell you it's a young person. A young, female person." I raised my eyebrows in surprise, while Sherlock only smirked.
"How many photographs." Sherlock asked.
"A considerable number, apparently."
"Do Miss. Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?"
"Yes, they do."
"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios."
"An imaginative range, we are assured."
I looked over to John, and laughed a little,silently, before speaking.
"You can put your sup in your sauser, now, Johnny boy." John was staring blankly at Mycroft, his cup held up from the saucer, and, as soon as I said something, he snapped back to reality, and puts his cup back down.
"Can you help us Mr. Holmes?" The equerry asked.
"How?" He asked.
"Will you take the case?"
"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, "Know when you are beaten." Sherlock grabbed his coat, which was thrown over the back of the couch.
"She doesn't want anything." Mycroft said, causing Sherlock to turn towards him.
"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she has no intention to use them to extort either money or favor." Mycroft elaborated.
"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix." Sherlock said, suddenly interested. "Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?"
"Sherlock." John warned, feeling my...unease, for lack of a better word.
"Hmm." He hummed, reaching for his coat again
"Where is she?" Sherlock asked.
"Uh, in London, currently. She's staying…"
"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day." Sherlock announced.
"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" The equerry asked.
"No, I think I'll have the photographs."
"One can only hope you're as good as you say you are." The equerry said.
"I'll need some equipment, of course."
"Anything you require. I'll have it sent to…"
"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock asked, interrupting.
"I'm sorry?" The equerry asked, as Sherlock had directed the question to him.
"Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do." He held out his hand.
"I don't smoke." The equerry said.
"No, I know you don't but your employer does."
After a pause, the equerry reached into his pocket, and took out a lighter, giving it to Sherlock.
"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes."
"I'm not the Commonwealth." Sherlock said, then turned and left.
"And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you." John said, before leaving, me following close behind.
"Laters!" Sherlock said, not sounding the 't'. I sighed, and shook my head
"Okay, the smoking. How did you know?" John asked. I was stuck between then, as always.
"The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you seen but do not observe."
"Observe what?" John asked. Sherlock only reached into his coat, and flashed an ashtray quickly, causing John to laugh.
"The ashtray." He says, simply, tossing the ashtray into the air, and then catching it, putting it back in his coat, chuckling.
As soon as we arrive at 221b, Sherlock rushes to his bedroom, leaving the door open, clothes flying every which way.
"What are you doing?" I asked, walking down the hallway.
"Going into battle, love. I need the right armor." He explained, putting on a large, yellow jacket, looking to me with his arms stretched. I shook my head.
"No." I said.
"No." He repeated, shrugging the jacket off, and flinging it across the room. I chuckle a little, shaking my head, before pushing off of the doorframe and walking back into the living room with John.
"So what's the plan?" John asked.
"We know her address."
"What, just ring her doorbell?" I asked, the plan seeming a little less…well, elaborate than I thought it might be.
"Exactly. Stop here please." Sherlock said, and the cab stopped.
"You didn't even change your clothes." I noticed as we got out.
"Then it's time to add a splash of color." He said, taking off his scarf.
"Are we here?" John asked.
"Two streets away, but this'll do."
"For what?" I asked.
"Punch me in the face." Sherlock says to John, who looked at him confused.
"Punch you?" He asked.
"Yes. Punch me, in the face, didn't you hear me?" He says, gesturing to his left cheek.
"I always here 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext." John joked, and I laughed a little. Before I knew what was happening, Sherlock punched John, and Sherlock braced himself, while John straightens, immediately punching Sherlock out of anger.
"Ow!" John exclaimed. Sherlock looked at his knuckles.
"Thank you, that was—that way—" Sherlock never got to finished, though, because John hit him in the stomach, causing him to double over, John on his back, strangling him, while I stood, shocked, and confused.
"Okay! I think we're done now, John."
"You wanna remember, Sherlock; I was a soldier. I killed people."
"You were a doctor!" Sherlock reminded.
"I had bad days!
"Okay, John, enough. Enough!" I yelled, doing my best to pull John off of Sherlock. He retreated, and Sherlock rose up, giving John a confused look. John only shrugged. I noticed Sherlock had a gash on his cheek where John had punched him.
"Okay, now Elizabeth, come here." Sherlock said, but I stayed away.
"You're not going to punch me too, are you?" I asked.
"No."
"I'm not going to have to punch you, am I?" I asked.
"No, ju- Elizabeth, please come here." He begged, and I did so, walking over towards him, meeting him halfway. He pulled something from his pocket-a small box-and handed it to me. I looked at him quizzically, and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring.
"Wha-" I began, but Sherlock held up a hand to stop me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see John walking forward a few steps, but I couldn't tell if he was angry or not.
"Put it on your ring finger." He commanded.
"But, wha-" He turned, before I could finish, walking towards the road, buttoning his top button, and pulling out a piece of white plastic, putting it in his collar, like the 'dog collar; of a vicar. I looked to John, who look at me, confused, before we followed him, putting the ring on, and putting the box in my pocket. The ring fit perfectly, and it was beautiful-not too big, but not small either, with small diamonds surrounding the larger one in the middle.
We walked a few blocks in silence. I had caught up with Sherlock, walking beside him, and he grabbed my hand, his thumb playing with the ring on my finger.
We reached, what I guessed was Irene's house, and Sherlock ordered John to stay back, explaining that he was a doctor and a bystander, and to play along. I was going to stay with him, unsure of my role in Sherlock's little production, but he kept a hold of my hand, and pulled me with him to the doorbell, ringing it ,and taking a tissue from my pocket, putting it on his face.
"Act anxious and scared." He said in a low voice, ruffling my hair a bit.
"I can't act." I said. He looked at me.
"Of course you can. You were fine the last time we did this. Remember?" he said, and the intercom buzzed, signaling someone had answered.
"Hello?" A woman said.
"Ohh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, my wife and I, um, we've just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they…they took my wallet, and, um, my phone. Um, please could you help us?" he said in a posh accent, and I had to try so hard not to laugh at him, or crack a smile, I succeeded, surprisingly, and stayed silent.
"I can phone the police if you want." She suggested.
"Thank you, thank you! Could you, please?" He asked. "Oh, would you…would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much." Sherlock said, tearfully, lifting the tissue to the scar on his face, beginning to whimper. We were buzzed in.
John followed us inside, closing the door behind him.
"I-I saw it happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor." He explained. "Now have you got a first aid kit?" he asked.
"In the kitchen." The woman said, gesturing for Sherlock and I to sit in the front room.
"Please." She said, gesturing to the room.
"Ooh! Thank you." Sherlock said, still in character.
"Thank you." John repeated, going into the kitchen behind Kate.
We sat on the sofa, and I turned to Sherlock.
"Not that I don't mind playing your wife all the time, but why?" I asked.
"We only needed one 'witness'-in this case, John- and, if we were 'married', they wouldn't split us up-we would stay together."
"Okay." I said, partially getting that he was saying, before it all going silent.
"You don't mind, do you?" He asked, quickly. I shook my head.
"Not at all, I just said I didn't, I was just wondering why, is all." I said, but then cracked a smile. "But, you know," I held up my left hand, showing him the ring. "If you want to marry me, all you have to do is ask." I said, jokingly. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, but a smile was on his face. I laughed, leaning into his shoulder.
"We haven't been together that long." He said, still laughing a little.
"Mmm. How long has it been?" I asked, curious. He took a deep breath.
"Eight months and 28 days." I turned to him, surprised, and he sent me a warm, genuine smile. I smiled back at him. "Well, I'm not naked. And we're not in Buckingham Palace." He suggested, and I laughed, but we went back into character after hearing footsteps approaching.
"Hello. Sorry to hear you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name." A woman said. I was looking down at my fingernails as Sherlock spoke.
"I'm so sorry. I'm…" He stopped, and I looked up to see what made him pause.
A woman stood in the doorway, wearing heels…just that. Just heels. Other than her shoes, she was stark naked, and confident about it, too. I looked away, quickly, slamming my knee into Sherlock's, whose jaw had dropped slightly.
"Oh, it's hard to forget an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" She asked, walking towards us. She stood right in front of him, half kneeling on the couch, straddling his legs, and I scooted away, wanting to be far away as possible. I rolled my eyes, disgusted. She pulled the dog collar from his shirt. "There, now we're both defrocked." She said, smiling at him.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes."
"Miss, Adler, I presume." I said, drawing attention to myself, reminding her that-hello!-I'm right here! She only smiled at me, before turning her attention back to Sherlock.
"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She asked, narrowing her eyes and putting the dog collar in her mouth, biting the edge of it. John walked in, holding a bowl and a napkin, and I looked at him, pleadingly, hoping he could do something to get us out of here, or cover her up.
"I've missed something, haven't I?" He asked. Irene stepped back from Sherlock, thank goodness, and he fidgeted on the sofa, uncomfortably.
"Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid." She suggests.
"We had some at the Palace." Sherlock tells her.
"I know." She smiled, sitting in an armchair, crossing her legs and folding her arms, covering herself.
"Clearly." Sherlock mumbles. I scooted back to my original spot, but Sherlock just stared at her. I looked back to John, begging he would do something.
"I had tea too, at the Palace, if anyone is interested." He said, trying to get the attention of the room, but they ignored him.
Sherlock, after looking at Irene for a long time, looked at John, then back to Irene. He stared at her, and she let him, before turning his gaze from her, to me.
I didn't know what was going on, but the third time his eyes wandered between us, I was sure we were being compared in some way, whether it be deductions, or something else. Both way, I was becoming self-conscious, and my self-esteem was plummeting.
"D'you know what the problem is with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" She asked. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."
"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock asked.
"No, I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." Sherlock unbuttoned the two buttons on his shirt, fed up with them, and Irene leaned forward. "Oh, and somebody loves you." She said. "Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too."
"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all?" John asked, looking down, and holding out a napkin. "A napkin?" he offered. She only smiled.
"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" She asked.
"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said, standing, picking up his coat, and handing it to Irene, who ignored him for the time being, walking over to my brother, who kept eye contact only, uncomfortably.
"No, I think he knows exactly where to look." Irene said. She then turned to Sherlock, who was attempting to avoid looking at the dominatrix.
"I'm not sure about you." Irene said, taking his coat.
"if I wanted to look at naked women, I'd borrow John's laptop." Sherlock said. I almost laughed.
"You do borrow my laptop." John stated, and I raised my eyebrows at Sherlock.
"I confiscate it." He corrected, walking over to the fireplace.
"Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about." Irene said, wrapping Sherlock's coat around her, and sitting on the couch right beside me, taking off her shoes. She gave me a small smile as she sat down, and I returned it not wanting to be rude, even though I really, really, really did not like her. "Now tell me, I need to know. How was it done?" She asked
"What?"
"The hiker with the bashed in head. How was he killed?"
"That's not why I'm here." Sherlock said.
"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs, but that's never going to happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway…."
"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" I asked. She turned to look at me.
"I know one of the policemen." I nodded.
"Oh." I said.
"Well, I know what he likes." She elaborated.
"Oh." I said in a lower octave, understanding what she meant. "And you like policemen?"
"I like detectives." She said. "And detective stories. Brainy is thenew sexy." She looked at Sherlock.
"Positionofthe car…" Sherlock said, incoherently. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know." Sherlock said, slowly this time.
"Okay, tell me: How was he murdered?" Irene asked.
"He wasn't."
"You don't think it was murder."
"I know it wasn't."
"How?" She asked.
"The same way I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs are in this room."
"Okay, but how."
"So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door." Sherlock ordered, and John left the room, shutting the large door behind him.
"Two men alone in the countryside, several yards apart and one car." Sherlock says, beginning to pace.
"Oh I-I thought you were looking for the photographs." Irene said, confused.
"No, looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them, but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass time. The driver's trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere. And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching birds? Any moment now something's going to happen."
The car will backfire.
"The hiker's going to die." Irene states.
"No." Ha! "That's the result. What's going to happen?" Sherlock asked again.
"I don't understand." Irene said.
"Oh, well, try to." I mumbled.
"Why?" She asked, turning to me, a rude look on her face.
"Oh, because you cater to the whims of the pathetic, and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think." Sherlock said, coming to my rescue, because, honestly, I didn't know what to say there. "It's the new sexy." He added, sarcastically.
"The car's going to backfire." She finally answered, and I almost applauded.
"There's going to be a loud noise." Sherlock adds.
"So, what?"
"So, you like detectives, and you like detective stories, yet you can't figure out why a loud noise is in any way important to this case, or any case, really?" I asked. She glared at me, and Sherlock looked at me, confused.
"She is right, though." He smirked. "That's why I like her. She's smart." He sent a almost unnoticeable sink at me, before continuing. "She's right, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance…" He paused, and the fire alarm went off at just the right moment. I looked at Sherlock, who was watching Irene, who was staring at the mirror above the fireplace.
"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." He walked towards the fireplace.
"Really hope you don't have a baby in there." I said, as he pressed a button under the mantel piece and the mirror rose to reveal a safe.
"Alright, John, you can turn it off now!" Sherlock yelled, but the alarm kept beeping. "I said you can turn it off now." He repeated.
"Give me a minute." Came his muffled reply, before the alarm went off.
"Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know." I stood up to get a better view of what he was talking about, and he gestured me over. "Come here, dear. Just might learn something." he said with a smile. I walked to stand beside him, ready to listen. "Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used – that's quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday – no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so ... " he said, turning to Irene, and then back to the safe, trying to figure out the code.
"I'd tell you the code right now, but you know what, I already have." Irene said from behind us. Sherlock frowned at her. "Think." She said as the door burst open, and a man had his pistol aimed at Sherlock, while other men followed in behind with John, each of the men's pistols pointed at us.
"Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still." I stayed standing, confused as to what they wanted me to do, considering the command was directed towards Irene. None of them even glanced my way.
"Sorry Sherlock." John said, as he walked into the room, standing beside Irene.
"Miss. Adler, on the floor." The first one said-American. John, Irene, and I were all shoved to our knees, mine hitting the hard floor. A gun was pointed at both of them, and I assumed one was pointed at me, too.
"Do you want me on my knees too?" Sherlock asked.
"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." He said.
"American. Interesting. Why would you care?" Sherlock asked.
"Sir, the safe, now." The man said.
"I don't know the code." he said honestly.
"We've been listening. She said she told you."
"Well assuming you've been listening, you would know that she didn't."
"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation I assume you didn't, Mr. Holmes."
"For God's sake, she's the one who knows the code. Ask her." I said, annoyed.
"Yes, ma'am. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police." he informed me. "I've learned not to trust this woman."
"Mr. Holmes doesn't…" Irene began, but the man cut her off.
"Shut up. One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the inside of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship."
I didn't really like Irene-that is a fact that everyone in the past five minutes has more than likely picked up on, but I didn't want her to die, and I didn't like how this guy was talking to her. Made me nervous.
"On the count of three, shoot the Watson's." He commanded.
"I don't have the code." Sherlock repeated.
"One." The man began.
"I don't know the code." Sherlock said, empathetically.
"Two."
"She didn't tell me. I don't know it!" he insisted.
"I'm prepared to believe you any second now. Three." I closed my eyes, and waited.
"No, stop!" Sherlock shouted, and I tried to slow my breathing as Sherlock began punching numbers into the safe.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes." The man said as the safe clicked open, but Sherlock didn't open the door all the way. "Open it, please." he asked. Sherlock held his hand on the safe's handle, and looked to Irene, who was looking at the floor.
"Vatican Cameos." Sherlock said urgently, and opened the safe, moving out of the way, grabbing the gun from the first man's grip while the bullet fired from the safe hit one of the other men.
Everything moved in fast motion, and I had no clue what to do, seeing as I had never been in a situation like this before. Before I knew it, though, Irene, John, and Sherlock all three had guns and the men that barged into the room were lying on the ground, some unconscious I looked at Sherlock, who seemed pleased with himself. He caught my eye..
"Photographs?" I mouthed to him. His smile widened, and he patted his pocket.
"Photographs." He mouthed back, confirming. I smiled a little as well.
"He's dead." John said, kneeling down beside the man who had been shot.
"Thank you." Irene said to Sherlock. "You were very observant."
"Observant?"
"I'm flattered."
"Don't be."
"Flattered?" I asked, confused.
"There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building,"
Sherlock rushed out of the room, John and I following.
"We should call the police." John said as we walked outside. Sherlock had taken the silencer off of the pistol he stole from one of the men, and held it in the air.
"Yes." He agreed, shooting the gun in the air. I covered my ears. "They're on their way."
"For God's sake!" John shouted.
"Oh, shut up, its quick." Sherlock responded, walking back inside, and I heard police sirens coming this way.
"Check the rest of the house, see how they got in." Sherlock ordered, and I went with John to check the house.
We walked, silently, upstairs, walking into a bedroom. John was looking around, and I noticed a body lying on the floor.
"John." I said, running towards the body, making sure she was breathing.
"Sherlock!" John called. Sherlock arrived, Irene directly behind him. "Must have come this way."
"Clearly."
"It's alright, she's just out cold." John said. I rose from the ground, and stood beside Sherlock.
"Well, God knows she's used to that."I rene responded. "There's a backdoor. Better check, Watsons."
"Sure." John said, and we left the room together.
We checked the back door, and it was locked, so we walked back upstairs.
"Jesus." I heard John exclaim before I got into the room myself. "What are you doing?"
I walked in and saw Sherlock on the ground, half conscious.
"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit, It makes for an attractive corpse."Irene told us, sitting on the windowsill in her bathroom, holding onto a rope.
I rushed and kneeled beside Sherlock, trying to see if I could get him to stay awake, at least until we got him into a cab, because how bad would it look, us dragging an unconscious Sherlock around and into a cab? Sherlock was slipping, though.
"What did you do to hm?" John asked.
"He'll be fine. I've used it on all of my friends."
"Sherlock, can you hear me?" I asked him, but got no real answer, only a groan.
"You know, I was wrong about him. He did know where to look." Irene said.
"For what?" I asked angrily. "What are you talking about?"
"The key code to my safe."
"What was it?"
"Should I tell her?" Irene asked, looking down at Sherlock, who was still trying to get up, but it was no use.
"My measurments."
She said, before flipping out of the window. John rushed over to it, trying ot find her, but found nothing.
John had been giving me odd looks during the cab ride, but refrained from saying anything, while I held a sleeping Sherlock in my arms. He had been sitting in between us to keep him from falling over and hitting his head on the window, and the cabbie had been glaring at us, but when we hit a curve, Sherlock tilted my way, his head landing on my shoulder, so to help us seem less suspicious, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders lovingly, and placed a kiss to his head, and the cabbie began to look back at us less and less often.
WHen we got back to the flat, John carried slightly confused, rambling Sherlock to bed while I got him a glass of water , just in case, and set it on the bedside table. When I walked into his room, though, he was already back to sleep, so I sighed and shut the door as quietly as I could, trying not to wake him. Sherlock rarely ever slept, so I didn't want to wake him, seeing that he needed at least a few hours, even if they were drug induced.
I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a frozen meal from the fridge, looking back at John.
"Want one?" I asked, prepared to make another if he wanted it.
"Not at the moment." He said, already typing away at his laptop. "I might have one later. Thank you, though." He said.
"So." John said, shutting his laptop and walking into the kitchen. "Irene."
"What about her?" I yanked the microwave door open, pulling out a jar of God knows what (I got used to finding things around the flat, usually hidden where food was stored) and slamming it on the counter.
"No-nothing, it's just, um, that was-"
"Humiliating?Awkward? THe reason why I no longer have any self confidence?" I suggested sourly.
"Elizabeth." He sighed.
"Sherlock seems to really like her." I continued. "She did make quite the impression. And he payed attention, knowing her measurements and all." I slammed my food into the microwave, and shut the door, pressing the buttons.
"Elizabeth, are you worried? That he may like her more than you?" He asked. I only shrugged. "Elizabeth, listen." He said, but I didn't look at him. Yes, I was a little worried. Irene was much more attractive than I was, and so much more confident than I could ever hope to be, and she was much more clever and interesting, and they both seemed to hit it off great. They also got along very well, which, with Sherlock, is rare.
But, if Sherlock would rather be with Irene, yes it would hurt like Hades, but that would be what he wanted.
I didn't fight with Jem. When I found him and my friend in our apartment, I only told him to leave if that was what he really wanted, if she was who he really wanted to be with instead of me. He made his choice, and I didn't try to stop him or reason with him. That's what he wanted, and what made him happy, and who was I to try and deny him his happiness just for the sake of mine?
Same with Sherlock. If he would rather be with Irene, and if Irene made him happy, I wasn't going to try and make him miserable.
I'll probably just go buy a bunch of those cats I always talked about having. Cats can't hurt you.
"Elizabeth Watson, look at me and listen." This time, I looked his way. "I know it's upsetting you, okay. I'm your brother, I know you." He paused before holding out his arms. "Come here." He said, and I walked over to him as he engulfed me in a hug. "But I also know Sherlock, and I knew him a while before you came along and let me tell you something-Sherlock has been so much better since you came around. He smiles more, he laughs more, and few people ever really get close to him, but you seem to be closer than any of us-Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, even myself, and especially Irene."He patted my back and pulled away, keeping his hands on my shoulders. "It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see how much he really does care for you." John smiled, and I remembered my conversation with Mrs. Hudson months ago when she said almost the exact same thing. "Never thought I'd be telling someone that." He laughed a little, and I joined him. "Now, I don't think that you have anything to worry about. Okay?" I nodded, causing him to grin and give my shoulders a little squeeze. I was about to turn back to my food, when we heard a thud coming from Sherlock's bedroom along with a series of shouts for John, who rushed back there and slung open the door. I only went into the living room and sat down in Sherlock's chair, my food in one hand, a book in the other, and I got settled.
John came back a few moments later, Holding his thumb towards the door, about to say something.
"Elizabeth!" Sherlock shouted.
"Sherlock wants you." John said as I got up from the chair, and walked to the back bedroom, setting my plate and book down on the kitchen counter on the way.
"Yeah?" I asked as soon as I opened the door. Sherlock was lying with his back facing me, his glass of water empty. "More water?" I asked, but instead of answering, he slung his arm in the air. I walked around the bed, seeing as I wasn't able to see him face. "What?" I asked.
"Come here" He mumbled. I sat on the bed, and he sighed. "No, come here." He said. "Lay here." He said, patting the bed beside him. I swung my legs onto the bed and scooted closer, pulling the blankets up over me. "Closer." He said, and I moved a few inches, then stopped. He sighed, obviously I didn't move as close as he wanted me too, so he moved himself so that I was pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, his left arm going over my shoulders, his right worming it's way around my waist, while I held my hands to my chest.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?"I asked, but he was already asleep. I was going ot try to get up, but as soon as I budged, he tightened his grip around me, his brows furrowing r\together.
"No." He said quietly. "Stay, Elizabeth, please."
I sighed, and gave in, nuzzling into his shoulder.
What John had said to me earlier had really helped ease my feelings, and it wasn't that I didn't trust Sherlock, it's just that Irene seemed a lot better than me in so many ways, and there was a silly part of me thought that sometimes, maybe soon, Sherlock will think the same, and wouldn't want to be with me like I wanted to be with him.
I felt Sherlock place a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I smiled, falling asleep with the grin on my face.
I would have slept through the night, had Sherlock not shaken me, gently, whispering my name.
"Hmm." I hummed.
"What are you doing here?" He asked.
"You called me in here, and asked me to lay down, then you wouldn't let me go." I explained, sleepily.
"Mmm. Good to know I was still myself." He said, and I could hear his smile.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I would never let you go." He said, jokingly, though I could sensed a bit of truth behind his words as well.
We remained silent in the dark room, only hearing our breathing.
"John's probably wondering what happened to you." Sherlock said after a while.
"Probably." I agreed. "That or he thinks something else happened." Sherlock laughed.
"So immature." He said. "Just because two people t\who love each other are in the same bed, doesn't mean that they-" He paused, knowing that I hated the word. "-did the thing." He said.
"I agree with you completely, but sadly, the world doesn't in most cases."
"How much do you want to bet he went to Sarah's?" Sherlock asked. I smiled.
"20 says he didn't."
"You're on. Let's go check, shall we?" I got up from the bed, with him following behind, and we walked into the living room.
"No sign of life, Captain." I said
John's keys and cell phone were gone, which he usually left if he went to Mrs. Hudsons. I remember one night, not being able to sleep, I came into the living room, where Sherlock was still awake, and we filled John's photo album with pictures, setting the silliest one- one where Sherlock was crossing his eyes and was sticking out my tongue, as his screensaver. He hasn't changed it.
Sherlock was standing in the kitchen, smirking, holding out his hand, and I put the money in it, which he then placed in his dressing gown pocket. It was only then that I noticed t\something on my hand.
"Oh." I said, pulling the ring off of my finger and handing it back to him. "Here. You can have this back" I said, and he took hit, looking at it thoughtfully.
"You know, you can keep it, if you want it." He said.
"Sherlock Holmes, are you proposing?" I asked jokingly.
"Yes." he said, dead serious. "Yes, Elizabeth, I am." He began to smile, letting out the breath of a laugh, before letting his smile fade. "I-I know we haven't really known each other as long as normal couples do when they get engaged, but we're not exactly normal, are we?" He laughed, nervously, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. "but during this time I have done something I never thought I would do- I fell in love. NOt only did I fall in love, but I fell in love with someone who I don't come close to deserving. Elizabeth, I am a rude, condescending, ignorant, self-centered, narcissistic a-hole, while you are a humble, kind, gentle, generous, honest, selfless, and intelligent person. How you have been able to stand being in a relationship with me is beyond me.
"I don't know much about love, or relationships in general, but I do know that I love you, and I know that I don't say it often, and please know that just because I don't say it doesn't mean I don't. Elizabeth, you bring out this other side of me-a warmer, happie, human side of me, and I know everyone else sees it too!
"Elizabeth, I love you honestly I do, and if there is someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, it's you, without a doubt, so please, Elizabeth Watson, will you marry me?"
I felt like I couldn't breath, and I knew my eyes were filled with tears. Every worry I had about Irene, vanishing into thin air.
I only nodded and whispered a small 'yes' before he slipped the ring back onto my finger, and placed a soft kiss to my lips, and I felt his smile.
When we pulled away, Sherlock put his forehead on mine, both of us still grinning.
"Come on. Lets go to bed." He said, taking my hands as we walked back to the bedroom, and as soon as we were in bed, I laid my head on his chest, listening to his breathing before I fell into a deep, much needed sleep.
Woah. Okay.
So Sherlock and Elizabeth are engaged now, and Irene's gone for the moment, but what happens when She comes back? Hmm...
So what did you guys think of Elizabeth in this chapter? We kind of got to see her sarcastic, kind of rude side here, and I liked writing it a lot actually.
OMG, I absolutely loved it. Thank you for lotr scene as well. I know that Irene is going try to make Elizabeth jealous, I was wondering to be a fair if you couldn't put in a scene in about Sherlock getting jealous too?
~wolviegurl
OH! That would be really cool! I cold definitely put a scene in there somewhere, and I know exactly where ;) It will take some time, but Sherlock will have some jealous moments. Promise.
And Irene definitely isn't finished yet!
I'm glad you loved it, and thank you for the idea for the lotr scene! I would have never thought of it otherwise!
Belladonna Took:I LOVE THIS STORY SO MUCH! You are a truly talented writer and seem like a nice person from your A/Ns! I love how you've incorporated Elizabeth into the story, and I ship Elizalock/whatever the ship name is SO MUCH. Also, the chapter where you talked about scoliosis (forgotten which exact one it was) was actually basically the first time is heard of it, but I just found this fan fiction yesterday (June 29th) otherwise I would've worn green :3
I need to rewatch LoTR, I watched it a year or so ago and got bored, but this has inspired me go rewatch them. Maybe I shall be like Elizabeth (who I usually imagine with long wavy dark ginger-red hair and emerald eyes, I'm not entirely sure why XD) and Sherlock and go on a filmathon :D
minus Sherlock and Elizabeth.. *sob*
And I like your sign-off, too XD Eagerly awaiting the next chapter!
(sorry for the length, caps and the hyperness, I really love this story XD)
-Belladonna Took
Squee! Another new reviewer! I am ecstatic that you are loving my story, and thank you for the compliment, lovely!
I quite like Elizalock. It's got a bit of a ring to it, don't you think?
Funny story, actually with the Hobbit & LoTR-I hated them at first. My grandfather had bought me the books, and I wasn't interested in the in the slightest, and I read the first chapter or so of the Hobbit, and tried LoTR, and got bored too, but one day, several months down the road, my grandfather and I were talking and he mentioned a HObbit marathon that was going to come on and he was going to record for us to watch, and I'm one of those people, if I can, I would like to read the book before I watch the movie, so I picked it up and started reading The hobbit again, and at first I still didn't like it, but the more I read, the more I got into it, and towards the end of the book I was locking myself in my room to read i, and I have a feeling it with be the same with the lotr books, but I'm turning 16 in August, and I'm planning on having a hobbit/lotr's movie marathon, and I can't wait (22 hours and 30 minutes!), so I have to read it before then, but I'm super excited about it!
That is really interesting the way you imagine Elizabeth. I never imagined her like that, even when I was planning parts of this, so that's really cool!
And you don't have to apologize for the length, caps, and hyperness! And I'm glad you're enjoying the story as much as you are! Thank you for the amazing review!
I'm so looking forward to the next chapter and how Irene and Elizabeth will react to each other. I'm also glad that Molly and Elizabeth are getting along well, they don't really seem like the jealous type.
I read Night by Elie Weisel a few years back. I liked it very much, and I'm planning on soon watching The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.
~GraySnowie
A lot of fanfics (And I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again, because somehow, it just irks me.), but they make Molly angry and jealous, and the completely opposite of Molly Hooper, and if you think that, that's fine, but I don't think that's how she would react at all.
The boy in the Striped Pajamas is a really good movie, a sad movie, but a good movie, and I would recommend it to anyone who likes World War II or The Holocaust (not like it as in, you know, supported it and what not, but likes learning about it), and is just up for a good tear jerker.
I think those are all of the reviews. I don't have anything else to say, other than thank you guys, and I'll see ya soon.
May I always live to serve you and your crown.
~Eruaphadriel