[Author's note: So, I thought, how much can I procrastinate in two hours? Two episodes of Top Gear and a soda later, this chapter came to life. Read and review this little filler chapter and procrastinate on, my friends. I own nothing but the OCs and a Netflix account. PS- I apologize for any format issues, different computer I can't quite use yet.]
A fantastically sweet melody drifted through the air of 221B as Sherlock dedicated his time to plucking at the strings of his violin. Addie had fallen asleep to the sound, nodding off, nestled in the warmth of the coffee-colored comforter that wrapped the bed with her trusty companion, Sir Bartholomew Barkington. That had been quite a while ago, but the consulting detective, deep in thought, had not succumbed to the physical drain of his body. What woke Addie up was the silence.
In what appeared to be a start, she sat up in bed, no longer hearing the sound of the violin, but also not hearing the usual sounds of Sherlock puttering about the flat looking for something to pass the time. There was, at once, the sounds of dull thudding and furniture scraping the floor before the door to the bedroom was ripped open and strange figures pulled an unsuspecting and frantic Addie from the bed. Her canine companion growled and bit and made all sorts if scary sounds, all of it ending in being kicked away by an unknown assailant that dragged his mummy off towards the door of the flat.
"Sherlock!" She screamed, kicking and squirming over the shoulder of whoever deemed it fit to kidnap her, loud enough to rouse an almost unconscious detective from his stupor and struggle, in vain, to get to her. "Lock!" The door of the flat closed just in time to watch the barrel of a gun strike the side of his head and his lithe figure crumple to the floor.
"Hello, Adelaide," a stern, yet mild voice greeted her as she was forced into an armchair in a dark, empty room. Addie's only real response was the rather vulgar hand gesture she directed towards the voice. "Oh, you're so difficult, girl. Honestly, I tried to be as gentle as possible, but your boyfriend got in the way."
"I swear, if I get back and see one single hair out of place on him, I will skin you alive, starting with your nasty bits," she seethed, dark hair sticking out in all directions and giving her an over-all deranged look.
"Who says you're getting back? Who says he's alive?" The voice, a muscular, calm, pawn of a man asked pleasantly as he sat across from her, all blue eyes and charm.
"You wouldn't have gone through so much trouble just to kill me or him. A bullet would have saved you the petrol."
"Very observant. I bet you know why you're here, even."
"You're the one who kept leaving messages on my door."
He smiled. "I only delivered them, but yes."
"You jackass, you cost me my security deposit. Stop knife-securing notes on my door. Haven't you ever heard of sticky notes?!"
"I think you're focusing on the wrong thing."
She crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves from Sherlock's t-shirt running down to her elbows in a hilarious fashion and making her seem even more childlike. "I'm out six hundred pounds, I think I'm focusing on exactly the right thing."
"Aren't you concerned about your health? Aren't you scared?"
"Mate, I live with Sherlock Holmes. I'm in love with Sherlock Holmes, there is nothing you can do that could possibly surprise or frighten me." Addie replied, frankly bored of the situation. "And you kicked my dog. I will get you for that later."
"I do apologize, but he was attempting to eat my face."
"As he bloody well should. Now, what. Do. You. Want."
"Holmes' impatience really has rubbed off on you, hasn't it? Where does he find such a merry band of misfits? It's honestly a wonder."
Addie pretended to snore, causing her kidnapper to smirk a little wider before leaning forwards on his elbows and tilting his head. "Well, since you don't seem to want to enjoy the pleasantries, I'll get down to it. My employer wants your boyfriend out of the way. He's annoying, he gets in the way of plans and if he continues this path, he will be dealt with in some very unpleasant ways."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes at the man. "You say that as if I had any sort of influence over him. It took me the better part of a year to convince him to use bedsheets that were a color other than white, and that's just a minor inconvenience. How exactly do you suppose I stop him from annoying you?"
"He listens to you, doesn't he? Steer him away."
"You're wasting your time and mine. Why not just handle it yourself?"
"Because my way ends up with him dead, and my employer is fond of his character quirks."
"Ew. I'm dating him and not even I would express my affection in such a manner. Does your employer have the hots for Sherlock?"
The man furrowed his brow, cringing in pain. "I'd really rather not know. Just, don't...," he trailed off. "Tea?"
"Erm, sure. Earl Grey, if you have it." She seemed considerably more enthused about the prospect of tea.
Meanwhile, on the other side of London, Sherlock Holmes was coming back to the world for the secind tine that night. He wiped the blood that trickled down his left eye, ignoring the stinging it left, and stood up shakily. Bart was watching him from beneath the coffee table, too frightened to come out and see him. He coaxed the animal from under the furniture, giving him a once over and finding thwt he was fine, save for some mental trauma that would surely scar him forever, much unlike himself. He was fairly certain that if he opened his mouth his jaw would click out if place in a painful manner, kind of like Addie's did because of her- Addie!
"Adelaide," he called, his voice weaker than he would have liked. He cleared his throat, a metallic taste coating his tongue, and tried again. "Addie! Ad!" He swore under hus breath, but was a little relieved that Mrs. Hudson had chosen this weekend to visit her sister out of town. Otherwise, the old woman would be hysterical, instead of just him. However, hysterical or not, he knew he had to remain calm and analyze. The men had been wearing dark clothing, as kidnappers did. None had very distinguishable marks, as it should be in their trade. They didn't want anything to identify them. There was sand on the floor and pebbles mixed with dust. An old factory, a house close to a shore or a cement plant could be the culprit's hideout. He drew a handkerchief to the side of his head to staunch the flow of blood and sat still for a moment or two. The man was attempting to overcome the most horrendous sensation he had ever felt. Even though he knew, and he was certain of it, that he would retrieve Adelaide without any extreme complication, the fact that they had taken her in the first place had him shivering like a child in fear.
"Oh, Lord. I hope this isn't permanent," he drawled, rolling his eyes and shaking the cobwebs from his head vigorously. "Bart! Barty boy!" He called, the dog padding softly towards him and straightening up to place his front paws onto his human's legs. Human and beast stared at each other for a long while in total silence, save for their equally labored breathing. "Are you ready to get your mum back?" Bartholomew growled deep before letting out a long howl, causing the detective to smile. "I like your attitude, Bart. Come on, let's go. Come!"
The detective had worked out where the hudeout was, not that it was much of a hideout. The place screamed underground activities with their hi-tech security cameras and barbed wire around the fence. Sherlock decided that since they had so calmly walked into his home and taken whatever they wanted, that he could do exactly the same. The old milling factory had been repurposed many times over, but now housed what appeaared to be a loft with lush greeneries and an artificial beach that clashed heavily with the armored exterior. Thankfully, Bart had dug a hole under the fence big enough for both of them to squeeze through it, although with a little effort in his part, but they were soon walking care-free into the lair. He crashed open a few dozen doors before he got ti the one he wanted, a litte surprised that no one had stopped him yet.
"This is the part where you rel- Addie, are you watching a film and having tea?" Sherlock lowered his gun, resisting the urge to face palm as he saw hs significant other, still in his pajamas, curled on a sofa with a cuppa and what appeared to be The Jungle Book in the background.
"You were taking too long, I handled it myself." She answered, distractedly watching Baloo sing and dance on the screen.
"What do-" He stopped his senetence short when, through the over-all darkness of the room, he could see three bodies lying on the ground, unconscious, and what appeared to be tea saucers smashed around their heads. "Of course, leave it to you to find the most ridiculous way of rendering someone unconscious."
"It worked, didn't it?" She bit back, affronted, but quickly quieted at the sound of steps. "Shh... Come here."
"Oh, Adelaide, what did you do to my men?" Mycroft asked, having just come in thriugh the door to find his detail useless.
"These are yours? Damn. I didn't see them. It's dark. I can't tell one from the other." More footsteps were heard and she swore colorfully.
"Mycroft?! What the hell are you doing here?"
The elder smiled. "Adelaide called me."
"You called him. Why?"
"You weren't answering your mobile, so I called Myc. What did you expect? That I would sit here and wait for you to feel like coming? I even sent you a text with the address." Addie replied, holding Bart to her and petting him.
"Seriously?" He retrieved his device from the depths of his trouser pocket to see the missed calls and texts. "Ohhh... Oops?"
"You're useless, Lock," a laughing Adelaide announced, clearly tickled by the situation.
"You've downed my men. What do you propose we do now?" Mycroft sighed, twirling his umbrella aimlessly in attempt to entertain himself.
"If I knocked them out with a saucer, you're better off without them, Myc. So, front door?"
"Might as well, Laide."
"Since when do you two refer to each other in pet names?" Sherlock asked, clearly angry of being kept out of the loop.
"Oh, ages and ages. We also eat lunch together every Friday," Addie answered, walking towards the door with a grin and exiting, only to tip toe backwards a second later, a gun pointed at her chest.
"Mr. s Holmes. Just the men I wanted to see. My employer would like me to inform you that since you have been warned about what would happen if you meddle in his business, that he expects you to behave from now on."
"Your employer can go take a long walk off a short diving board. Now, if you would like me to cooperate, you'd remove your firearm from that woman before I do something exceedingly stupid, yet very satisfying." Sherlock drawled calmly, raising his own gun level with the man's head and cocking the pistol.
"Do you really think you're quicker than me, Sherlock?"
"No, I'm not."
"Sherlock, put the gun down," Mycroft hissed, as if they were still children.
"My dog is." The menacing growling that had all the while been ignored was painfully obvious at the moment, as the dog leapt towards the assailant and grabbed onto the first solid piece of flesh he could find and shaking his head vigorously. There was a scream as the man fell sideways and four other figures flooded into the room. Through a rain of bullets and tea pots, Sherlock, Adelaide, Mycroft and Bart ran like bats outta hell towards the main entrance and into Mycroft's car, piling in quickly into the backseat of the Jaguar and asking the driver to drive as fast as he dared back to London.
"What exactly did he say? Did he tell you who he was working for?" Sherlock asked, frantically, pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door while Addie scrubbed Bart from all the blood he had drawn from the nameless man and Mycroft sat on the edge of the tub handing her more bottles of shampoo.
"For the millionth time, no. He just said that you got in the way a lot, which is true. That you had to stop, unless you wanted some very bad surprises, which was most likely more for my sake than yours and nothing else."
"Nothing? Think, Adelaide. Really think."
"Just something about flying. That he always knew you'd fly, or something equally idiotic."
Sherlock stopped mid-step, and he turned on his heel sharply to face her. "What?"
"That he always knew you'd fly." She repeated slowly, rinsing Bart off mindlessly as she stared at him worriedly. "Why? What?"
"Flying is just like falling."
"Lock, we don't know it's him."
"Who else could it be?"
"He blew his brains out, Sherlock! Not even you and Mycroft can stage that!"
He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, exhausted with the night's activities. "You're right. You're right, I know it, but if anyone could pull something like this off, it would be him."
"It's not! Molly laid him out, the back of his skull was gone."
"She laid me out, as well."
Addie crashed the bottle onto the side of the tub with a groan. "Are you suggesting that Molly is a double agent?"
"No, of course not!"
"Then, what?!"
"I don't know, I'm just bouncing ideas. I'm planning for the worst."
"It really is no use, brother, dear. They're already ten steps ahead of us, I'm afraid. That's why no one came when Addie took care of my people. They accounted for it. Anyone else would have searched her for a cell, why leave her with it? This was all window dressing."
"What do you suggest we do, then, Mycroft? Have a tea and bend over?"
"No. What do you always do when a criminal eludes you?" The elder Holmes grinned, rolling down his sleeves and standing from his spot at the tub.
"I wait for them to make a mistake."
"Indeed. Laide, pleasure, as always. Bart, good job. Good evening."
"Come on, Bart, you sweet boy. Time to dry!" Adelaide cooed as she helped the hound of the tub and ran a towel over the mahogany fur. "You're such a good boy! You nearly ate someone today. There we are. All clean and shiny." The dog gave her a long lick on her cheek, causing her to laugh and wipe herself with the towel. "I'm glad that you're so pleased." She turned around to put the towel into the dirty clothes hamper and sighed. "The bathroom looks like a murder scene. I'll be scrubbing this for hours-" A pair of arms were squeezing her tighter than she would have liked, but she laughed just the same. Sherlock's usual soap, violin polish and formaldehyde scent lulled her into a serene mood and she found herself twisting her arms around his form and burrowing into his chest.
"I don't care how you do it, whether it be a gun, a teapot or a bloody paper plane, but you come back to me, any and every time. Do you understand me?" Sherlock had taken hold of her head, cupping her cheeks between his long, tapered fingers and stared with raw energy at her.
"Of course. Who would look after you if I didn't?" Addie grinned cheekily.
"I'm serious, Adelaide!"
"So am I, Sherlock. You take stupid risks when I'm not around, so it's my job to come back. Clear and simple. Now, can I finish cleaning up?"
"I'll do it. You go change and go to bed. I'll be there when I'm finished. Take Bart." She nodded and reluctantly turned away from him, not before pecking him on the lips and ruffling his hair.
Half an hour later the sound of rustling sheets woke Bart, which startled his owner, considering the great beast was lounging on top of her. Sherlock Holmes, dressed for bed and obviously just having taken a shower, hummed a soft tune under his breath as he climbed in.
"You're cheery," Addie mumbled, sluggishly, as she attempted to keep her eyes focused on the man in question.
"I've got a tune in my head. I don't want to forget it before I write it down," he commented, as if it were the most obvious reason under the sun for his behavior. This caused Addie to giggle at him, while he smirked reflexively, not really seeing what was humorous in the situation, but enjoying the fact that she was laughing, nonetheless.
"You're such a geek."
Seemingly affronted, he retorted, "I am not the one who reads comic books and watches obscure movies and cartoons."
"No, because that would make you a cool geek, not just a geek."
"I'm cool!"
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not!"
"Are too! I flip my collar up and scowl and look dark and mysterious and cool."
"No, you look like a man who is thoroughly confused, which most of the time, is accurate."
"Oh, yeah. So, you go for geeks, is that what you're saying?" His smirk was a clear challenge, even in the darkened room.
"Yeah. I thought you were aware of that," she answered, matter-of-factly. She calmly smiled. "I like geeky boys who wear their collars turned up like fools, run around solving crimes and who use composing as a vehicle to get over the fact that their girlfriend was taken from their flat under their watch and are too busy replaying the footage over and over in their mind."
The man scoffed, but looked a little sheepish. "Well, that's horridly specific for just a qualifying list, Ads. Who can possibly fill those shoes with any realistic parameters for the relationship ahead?"
"Stop. Worrying. You. Clot."
"How can you be so bloody calm?"
"What's the use in being hysterical?"
"None!" He bellowed, before he caught himself and cleared his throat. "I mean, none. I'm not being hysterical."
"No? So if I go to the front door that has never been locked in the time your possessions have been in this flat, I would find it unlocked, would I?"
"Yes, yes you would," hus voice wavered slightly as the crease in his forehead deepened with guilt.
"Don't mind if I do!" Addie threw her covers off, nudged Bart to the side and set off towards the front of the flat with a frantic Sherlock behind her.
"No, Addie, that's... No."
"I'm just going for a check, is all. Everything should be perfectly normal, right, Sherly?" He ignored the horrible nickname and lunged for her just before she turned the doorknob, knocking her down onto the carpeted floor with a dull thud. "What the hell, Sherlock?!" She was laughing, but she squirmed from under him to get free, all the same.
"I might have... Booby-trapped the door." he admitted awkwardly, causing Addie to look up at the tangle of rope, knives and sandbags hanging from the ceiling above the door.
"You're a ridiculous man, Sherlock Holmes."
"I'll concede you that point."
"What if I woke up before you and got killed getting the paper?"
"I would defend myself in court saying I did it all for you?"
"Oh, Lord. You've ruined me, Sherlock!" Her lips pouted out in a childish manner and the detective thought it the perfect opportunity to kiss her.
"Not that I have any rebuttals, but, why so?"
"That was actually touching! I would have gotten gored by three different blades, and I found your excuse touching." She groaned. "You've turned me into your perfect, appeasing, morally skewed, damaged sociopath."
The smile on this man's face could not have been aany wider if he had slept with a wire hanger in his mouth. "Well, maybe you should appease me all-together and marry me." There was an awful lot of loaded silence as the two, who had been laughing just a moment before, stared at each other with wide doe-eyes and confused expressions. Both of them did their best impression of a goldfish, flapping their mouth open and closed for the longest of the time before giving up on the endeavor. Then, they promptly fell into uncontrollable bouts of laughter.
"How about we get some sleep? It's nearly four in the morning."Adelaide suggested, and with a tangle of limbs, they got off the ground and into the bedroom, the matter filed into the 'Do Not Mention' stack inside their brains before the went off to dreamland.