"There was a man-" Irene spoke walking swiftly past Sherlock looking down at her phone, putting a good distance between her and the boys. "An MOD official. I knew what he liked."
The sound of pings indicated she was unlocking the screen, Helena was sadly facing the wrong away where Irene stood by the chair Sherlock left. If Helena wanted to- no, she needed to snatch that phone and get rid of it. But with what was happening now, the Tramp simply took her spot back at John's chair watching silently.
"One of the things he liked was showing off." She glanced to Sherlock, indicating the same to him. "He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." Much to Helena's surprise she handed the photo to Sherlock, a photo shown on the screen. "He was a bit tied up at the time." Helena rolled her eyes as they all watched Sherlock scan the photo.
"It's a bit small on the screen, can you read it?"
Sherlock sat down at the dining table, opposite of John narrowing at the screen. "Yes." He answered, seeing '007 confirmed allocation' and a long string of numbers.
"A code, obviously." Irene indicated to the numbers. "I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it. Though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out."
Be it a sexual reference or not, Helena only stared off into the distance, trying to block any more talk on it. The more mentioned, the more it made her think of that damned text Jim warned her about. She took in a deep breath and released through her nostrils giving them a flare to keep her nerves calm, she looked back seeing Sherlock focusing deeply on the screen.
"What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" Irene leaned in over his shoulder, John watch sipping his tea. "Go on." She encouraged, "Impress a girl."
Whether Sherlock noticed or not, Irene's lips were close to his high cheeks, though with his focus on this code, Helena could see why he wouldn't see it. But Helena herself hadn't noticed her nails digging into the arm chair watching this occur. Once her lips made contact with skin, she pulled away grinning as Sherlock gave a side look. Within a second, he spoke.
"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds."
Silence- he looked up to John finding the usual blank face, then to Irene for a reaction but all he got was just as lost. Finally, he looked to Helena, but she wasn't in the seat anymore. Hearing noises from the kitchen indicated that where she was. Unusual.
"Oh, come on." He said getting his attention back to the task. "These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look-"
In the kitchen, Helena poured herself some tea, not caring it was cold. She quickly downed the small cup and placed it on the counter by the sink and leaned. What was coming over her? For a split second she was fearful of some whisper being said, but it was just a kiss. Who cared, she shook her head thinking, who cares.
Irene Adler manipulates people to get what she wanted, and that's exactly what she was doing to Helena. She pulled her phone out looking over that text again. It haunted her, more than anything has. Helena wouldn't care people's thoughts on her appearance, life, or past. Why now- why did she care so much what John, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, even Mycroft thought of her. She wouldn't before so why now?
Helena knew why- because they were all she had. Sure, she had her brother back but with what limitations. She had to be careful for his safety and to keep his mother from knowing. Other than him, she had no family.
Feeling the trembles leave her hands, she pocketed her phone and returned to the room, just in time for Sherlock to figure out the photo of numbers.
"Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English Language. Helena keeps up well enough, but I'm sure she is just as impressed." He spoke nodded to the two.
Helena tilted her head, "I'll take that as a praise."
Irene stared intensely at him like a hungry lion. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice."
John and Helena watched the two stare deeply- was something going to happen? John glanced to Helena who gave a look unsure what was happening, she had only just now walked in. She made her way behind John standing by the window, feeling awkward like a third wheel.
Sherlock spoke but never broke eye contact. "John, Please can you check those flight schedules, see if I'm right?"
Helena nudged John to stop staring at the two himself, he was no better. He looked to her, and then down at the laptop. "Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah." He cleared his throat focusing on the search Sherlock requested.
Helena watched the laptop screen, but still heard the two. "I've never begged for mercy in my life." Sherlock retorted lowly to her.
"Twice." She quickly added.
Helena shot back to the screen, near barking in John's ear. "Found it!"
John was a bit stunned between the possible sexual tension and Helena's sudden shout. "Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven."
Something caught Sherlock's attention, he broke eye contact and looked to the two. "What did you say?"
"You're right." He quickly repeated.
"No, no, no, after that." His brows were
"Double oh seven," Helena repeated looking at the screen pointing at the words. "Flight double oh seven. Is that important?"
Sherlock looked up, repeating those three numbers to himself. Gently pushing pass Irene he passed around the room saying the same numbers. The three watched as he battled about in his mind to figure out this small clue. He stopped in front of the mirror, eyes tightly shut trying to hard to think of the answer.
"Double oh seven, double of seven, what, what, something, what?" Eyes shot open, he turned toward the living room doorway, a memory shooting through.
"Bond air is go." Escaped Mycroft's lips, many oh so, many months ago. Sherlock remembered, he returned on the phone hearing the words. "Bond air is go."
Minutes, hours; so long went by and Sherlock hadn't really broke from his mind palace despite speaking and moving about interacting with things. He now sat in his arm chair by the now lit fireplace, plucking the strings of his violin. Within these past hours night had fallen, John was gone, and Irene was alone with the spaced out detective. He spoke now and then as if John was here, but he told it was normal and it was best to leave him be. As Irene did content having him to herself- well, not completely.
Helena was still there but kept herself in the kitchen, Irene noticed she wouldn't talk to her but when her eyes fell on her phone she had a pale look went to find something to distract herself. With Sherlock in his state, she decided to bond with the Tramp. Still in Sherlock's blue robe, hair hung about but now dry, Irene strode into the kitchen finding Helena toying with Sherlock's test tubes. She took a seat across from her, seeing her gaze was down at the table surface.
"Haven't made the move yet, darling?" She asked arms crossed on top the table with a smile gracing her features.
Helena paused her poking at the shorted tube, glancing up at The Woman, she sighed and turned away. "Wish people would get off me on that."
"I'll take that as a no."
"Well, of course no," She spat softly, looking to Sherlock knowing he needed silence to concentrate in his mind palace. "Sherlock is married to his work, has no interest in a relationship, and clearly is a-"
"You're wrong."
"Hm- yup. Meanwhile some American bastards have been after that stupid phone." Helena held an accusing finger out at her. "The poor landlady was held captive and was hurt because of you." She hissed out. "You also go and pretend you're dead putting Sherlock in a state I've never seen before."
This made Irene's grin widen. "And yet you claim him to be a sociopath."
Helena frowned, seeing her try to change the subject. "Yes, he claims to be a sociopath, but he cares for those around him." She sighed combing her fingers roughly through her hair, not caring the outcome of her
"Why would he care about the danger of those around him? Why would he care if some woman with a phone of secrets die on the spot?" Helena's hand rested on the table as she leaned back listening to her. "...Why would he care for you?"
The Tramp didn't speak, her gaze lowered spotting the damned phone in one of Irene's hands. She hasn't put it down or let go of it since she got it from Sherlock hours ago. Could she ask for that information gone, if it was true. Helena had been thinking for hours, Jim could just screwing with her for fun. But at the same time, it made sense why Irene Adler knew her when first meeting.
"He can care, but love is an error to him." Helena responded looking up at Irene. "...You have every information on people with that phone?"
Irene looked to her phone shrugging. "Not everyone, only those who can aid me or bring me protection."
She gulped preparing her next question. "Even me?"
Irene watched her, almost waiting for anything else for Helena to say. The strings of the violin still heard from Sherlock in the other room. Soon, The Woman stood giving Helena a single wink and walked out to sit across from Sherlock who kept his mind at work.
With no answer, Helena sighed heavily resting her head on the table, facing away from the two. With no answer, how was she to know if Jim was telling the truth or not?
No- she couldn't let this get to her. This is exactly what he wanted from her.
"Coventry." Sherlock spoke out, pausing his violin plucking.
"Never been there." Irene responded, gaining the detective's attention. "Is it nice?"
Sherlock seemed a bit surprised to find Irene sitting there watching him. Had she been staring at him this entire time? Though he composed himself, no surprised she was still here. Although John was nowhere to be found.
"Where's John?" He asked.
"He went out a couple of hours ago."
His brows knotted, how could that be. "I was just talking to him." He assured, eyes scanning the room for sure he wasn't completely alone with this woman.
Though Irene smiled at his confusion, "He said you do that."
His eyes scanned again, John wasn't the only one. "Helena?"
Irene looked over her shoulder to the kitchen, Sherlock spotted the girl laying her head down facing away. "She's alright, just a bit…" She shrugged. "Overwhelmed?"
Sherlock sighed, he was a tad relieved he wasn't completely alone with her. He placed his violin down seeing Helena's back rise and fall, she was alright.
"What's Coventry got to do with anything?" She asked.
Sherlock took in some air, and answered. "It's a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to know that they'd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway."
Irene had taken notice that Sherlock was doing his best to avoid eye contact by looking to the side of the room or glancing toward the kitchen; toward Helena.
The grin stayed on her lips, "Have you ever had anybody?"
Sherlock frowned, she had this thing for changing the subject without warning. It for sure put him in a small loop at times. "Sorry?" He questioned slowly.
"And when I say 'had', I'm being indelicate."
"I don't understand."
Irene stood, "Well, I'll be delicate then." she kneeled in front of Sherlock, placing her hand gently on top of his own, eyes locked onto him. "Let's have dinner."
Sherlock replied instantly. "Why?"
"Might be hungry."
"I'm not."
"Good."
Sherlock showed hesitance, giving one final glance to the kitchen, Helena's figure out of his sight. "Why would I have dinner-" He inturn leaned forward a bit, turning his palm upwards pressing his fingers around her wrist. "if I wasn't hungry?"
Slowly, Irene leans inturn towards him, gazing down onto his 'virgin' lips. "Oh, Mr. Holmes…" She purred, feeling his fingers stroke the veins of her wrist. "...If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"
Within those seconds, that were feeling longer at the touches they made, Sherlock couldn't reply. As he heard the call of "Sherlock!" from a elder woman, his eyes shooting to the doorway.
"Too late." Irene whispered finally breaking contact.
"That's not the end of the world, that's Mrs. Hudson." He corrected her.
The sounds of footsteps bounding upstairs, alerted the two to separate. Helena, who was shockingly still here, arrived in first just to get a glimpse of Irene moving away from Sherlock who leaned back in his chair. She looked between the two without a word, only to earning a grin from Irene and a expected explanation look from Sherlock.
Mrs. Hudson finally came in, a man in a suit following up after the two ladies. "Sherlock, this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?" She turned to the man apologetically but had a finger pointing at the detective. "He shot it."
Helena rolled her eyes at that, arms crossed remembering the last time men in suits came for them.
"Have you come to take us away again?" Sherlock questioned with short look of patience.
The man passed through the women, "Yes, Mr. Holmes."
"Well, we decline." He said sharply looking away.
The man pulled a envelope out from his jacket, "I don't think you do." and held it out to Sherlock. He glances up and snatches the damned thing checking inside. He finds a plane ticket, business class to Flyaway Airways in the name of Sherlock Holmes for flight number 007 to Baltimore. It leaves at 6:30, Sherlock looked up at Helena who held up her own ticket.
Without a word, Helena and Sherlock got their coats on -along with Sherlock's scarf and gloves- and left the flat to a car parked in front.
"Is it safe to leave her with Mrs. Hudson?" Helena asked as Sherlock opened the door for her to get in first.
"She'll be fine." He assured, nodding her to climb in.
She did so, Sherlock climbing in afterwards with the man sitting in the front passenger seat. Soon the car pulled out, Helena glanced back watching the flat before it went out of her sight.
Sherlock took his ticket out looking it over. "There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet."
Helena turned to him in shock. "What?"
He continued, "The British and American governments know about it but rather than expose the source of that information they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up." He paused thinking of that word. "Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. Nothing is ever new."
The two men in front don't respond, but lucky for Sherlock Helena did. "But, why not just stop? This isn't World War II, this is terrorist work." He looked to her as he toyed with his ticket. "The only reason they did it then was to not let them change the code and repeat that process of breaking it all over again. This is different."
He could see she was shocked by this, and clearly angered. "Once we arrive, you can inform them on that." He assured looking back out the window.
The drive wasn't too long, -for Helena it seemed to last forever- but they arrived at the airport soon enough. Helena had never stepped onto a plane before or been at an airport. Being with Sherlock in these cases had these perks. The car soon curled around a jumbo jet resting on the tarmac, once the car parked the two got out of the car. They spotted a familiar American at the bottom of the stairs to the plane, which caused Helena to hesitate between fear and anger. Though, Sherlock kept a hand on her shoulder, almost assuring her she would be fine with him near.
"Well, you're lookin' all better." He spoke in a condescending American accent, as Neilson looked to them. "How ya feelin'?" The accent reminded Helena of her own American friend.
"Like putting a bullet in your brain, sir." He responded, clearly he was trying to give a upper hand. But Helena was sure that 'sir' was like poison in his mouth.
Sherlock just lets out a chuckle, and pocketed his ticket before letting Helena up first for safety as he followed closely after. "They'd pin a medal on me if I did…" The two paused, Helena's knuckles crack as her anger now overshadowed her fear. "...sir."
The tall man half turned, thinking to show him a thing a two. He decides against it, turning Helena forward, continuing up into the plan. "I'll show him where he can pin that medal." She grumbled giving a glare over her shoulder.
"I'm sure you will." Sherlock agreed, amused at how fast Helena's emotions could change by a comment. One minute terrified, the next ready to break a jaw.
The two stepped into the plane, Helena drew the curtain back as they walked slowly down the aisle looking around. Dim lights, but they were able to see the seats were filled with sleeping people. Helena looked all over while Sherlock inspected the passengers near him. No movement, no color, no breathing. Sherlock lit a overhead light inspecting two men, he then realized.
"...Sherlock are they?"
"Dead." He confirmed, she turned to him shocked. "There's no sign of decomposition, yet the gray skin shows they have been dead for a good while."
Helena blinks at the sight before her, hand covering her mouth, "Everyone? But-"
"The Coventry conundrum." The two sharply turned finding the curtain drawn back, Mycroft Holmes emerged. "What do you think of my solution?" Sherlock gazes around, taking in this revelation. "The flight of the dead."
"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies." Sherlock indicated looking around.
"Neat, don't you think?" Sherlock gave a short smile of amusement. "You've been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages- or were you too bored to notice the pattern?"
Helena frowned and looked to Sherlock, who snapped his head to the side remembering those two clients he had. The two girls for their granddad, and the man for his aunt's 'ashes'. She turned back to Mycroft, "Coventry; like in WWII?"
The elder Holmes nodded to her, "We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight."
Helena's eyes went wide in remembrance. That one in the trunk!
Mycroft tilted his head to the side. "But that's the deceased for you; late, in every sense of the word.
"If everyone here is dead, how will the plane fly?" She asked motioning to the dead bodies around her.
"Unmanned aircraft." Sherlock answered her. "Hardly new."
"It doesn't fly." Mycroft corrected. "It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb." Helena turned to Sherlock who nodded with her earlier indication in the car; that's why. "We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished."
"Your MOD man." Sherlock concurred.
Helena's gaze went down, remembering Irene's telling of this MOD man. "That's all it takes: one lonely naive man desperate to show off," Her hands covered her face, realizing it all with a heavy feeling falling from her chest to her stomach.
"Hmm. You should screen your defense people more carefully." His attitude was high but his gaze was down at Helena, was she alright?
Mycroft voice rose furiously. "I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock! I'm talking about you." He spat slamming the tip of his umbrella onto the floor.
The detective looked up with true confusion, Helena turned to him chewing her lip. Her brows shooting up, she knew what Mycroft was talking about. For once, Helena was ahead of him in the game.
"The damsel in distress." His voice lowered with a cynical smile. "In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was the textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption- then give him a puzzle," He twirled his umbrella a bit in the air. "and watch him dance."
"Oh, Sherlock…" Helena groaned dropping her hands to her side and looking up at the ceiling of the plane.
Sherlock gave her a look, finding her reaction to all this a bit dramatic. "Don't be absurd." He told the two frowning deeply.
"Absurd?" Mycroft questioned, "How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?"
"I think it was less than five seconds."
The two looked over to the other end of the plane, Irene Adler arrived. Her hair properly styled, makeup perfectly done, and of course in a beautiful dress. The Woman was now here; that damned grin playing on her red lips.
"I drove you into her path." Helena turned back to Mycroft, seeing regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry." His eyes lowered downward, shame of doing such a thing to his brother. "I didn't know."
Irene walk towards Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk."
"So do I." Sherlock agreed, "There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on-"
"Not you, Junior." She brushed past him, "You're done now." and past Helena giving a look that made her shudder with anger. She stops at Mycroft, activated her phone and showed it to the elder brother as the screen glowed with life.
"There's more, loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world." Mycroft near squirmed at her words and gaze, he couldn't even hold his own to her and kept looking away. "You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me- unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."
That hit Mycroft hard, she was threatening to tell this whole plan was thanks to Sherlock. Helena knew how protective he was to his little brother, he'd have no choice but to accept Irene's wishes. The Hawk, instead risked to reach out in attempt to snatch the phone from her.
"I wouldn't, Darling. Wouldn't want that secret of yours out, would you." Helena's hand froze, she wouldn't dare. Irene glanced over her shoulder. "Though, I do have it memorized word for word."
"You're bluffing." She called shaking her head.
"Am I?" She gave a challenging look, Helena's eyes widened realizing her mistake. "Helena Shaw; not only had criminal offenses to pick pocketing and selling the items to pawn shops, you're first criminal offense was at the age of sixteen with the number good of customers involved." Irene watched her trembling hand lower, eyes wide wishing for her to stop. "Shall I go on?"
Helena's head shook softly, "Don't say another word." Her voice shook trying to give a threatening vibe.
"Over forty customers, prices vary- picky are we?" She teased tilting her head. Helena felt Sherlock's eyes on her, she saw Mycroft's look to her now and again between The Woman and her. "Prices between twenty to thirty five pounds for an hour. Impressive."
"Please stop-"
"That's not what you've said to your customers."
"SHUT UP!" Helena cried covering her ears not wanting to hear anymore. She had put this all behind her, and it was back up to haunt her. Her eyes tightly closed, she couldn't bare to look at Mycroft nor Sherlock, they had to have caught on by now.
"We're not so different, are we?"
Helena had been a prostitute.
Without a second word muttered, Mycroft had taken Irene, Sherlock, and Helena to his residence, -hard to tell with Mycroft- to discuss about the phone and what Irene would want. Mycroft sat across from The Woman at a table ready to figure out a loophole to get the information off that phone. Sherlock sat far from the two, by the lit fireplace curling his fingers against his thigh. Helena, she was hiding herself in the darkest part of the room at the other end by the windows, still within earshot but far enough to feel out of sight. Resting on the table between Irene and Mycroft, as the elder Holmes' mind cranked.
"We have people who can get into this." He indicated pointing at the phone.
"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months." Sherlock pressed his knuckles to his lips, he closed his eyes at that answer with a scowl. "Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone."
Sherlock answered quickly, "There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive." Mycroft's head rested in his hand at this, Helena watched on seeing the anxiety grow on him. "Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."
"Explosive." Irene purred eyeing Mycroft. "It's more me."
He lifted his head back up at her. "Some data is always recoverable."
"Take that risk?"
"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."
"Sherlock?" Irene softly called to him.
"There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt."
Irene eyed him earnestly. "He's good, isn't he? I should have him on a leash- in fact, I might."
SLAM
Eyes shot to the window seeing Helena's shaking fist had slammed down onto the table surface. Sherlock had finally turned seeing his 'bird' glare The Woman. Said female only looked Helena up and down, "Did that anger you or arouse you?"
Her voice shook, with not the same tone as before on the plane. "Don't talk about Sherlock in such a sick way." She hissed, her face scrunched up tightly.
"Would you prefer the leash? You seem to be well inversed of being ordered about." Irene teased, Helena's teeth clenched hard as if her jaw would break at any moment.
"Helena, sit down." Sherlock told nodding her to leave them. It would be best if she was far from them instead of far from him. Helena simply walked past Mycroft and stood by the fireplace, not making eye contact with Sherlock or Irene, as she sneered at her.
Mycroft cleared his throat wanting attention back on the phone, "We destroy this, then." he suggested lifting the phone up. "No one has the information."
Irene looked back to him, "Fine. Good idea- unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn."
"Are there?"
"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing any more." She warned, before going into her bag taking out a folded piece of paper and sliding to Mycoft. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted." He takes it, unfolding it ready to read what said requests were.
"I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation. But then I'd be lying." Mycroft's brows rose at the list upon the paper. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it." She offered.
"Thank you, yes."
"Too bad." He looked up at her, the stress seemed to rise at that. Sherlock somehow found that slightly amusing, Helena rolled her eyes her arms folded tightly against her.
"Off you pop and talk to people."
The elder Holmes sighed sinking in his chair, glancing back at the list once more. "You've been very...thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you."
"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help." She turned towards Sherlock. "Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love."
Sherlock's head rose at those words, he glanced to Helena her tightly wrapped her arms around herself, clearly shuddered by the name mentioned.
"Yes," Mycroft replied. "he's been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention, which I'm sure can be arranged."
Irene stood, "I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it." walking around to Mycroft reseating at the edge of the table before him. "Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice on how to play with the Holmes boys, and their pet."
Helena bit her lip at that. "D'yknow what he calls you?" She whispered softly at Mycroft, "The Ice man," turned to Sherlock, "The Virgin," then to Helena tilting her head for a moment. "He did call you Bird, but he might change that to The Tramp."
A name Helena took in greatly for as a street urchin, now it had a second meaning she wished to erase. She stole a look to Sherlock, she couldn't tell if his stare was from the comments to names or… something else.
"Didn't ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man." Irene boldly told, Sherlock closed his eyes sighing with dread.
"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees." Mycroft stood and rewarded Irene with a short bow, holding the paper she gave him. "Nicely played."
"No."
The two looked to Sherlock, "I'm sorry?" had he spoke, it was a low tone after all.
He took in some air, turning his head toward them. "I said no. Very very close, but no." He shot to his feet causing Helena to look over. "You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."She moved back as he made his way to his brother and The Woman. What was going on in his head?
"There's no such thing as too much." Irene countered, amused at how far Sherlock was still going over this 'game'.
"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game -I sympathize entirely- but sentiment?" He stared down at her with narrowed eyes. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."
"Sentiment?" She questioned. "What are you talking about?"
"...You."
Irene kept a calm smile, she found this accusation quite amusing. Helena looked between her and Sherlock, she wanted an input on this, but couldn't find her voice.
"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man." She pitied. "You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?" Her eyes shot to Helena for a second. "Would explain someone's-"
"No." Sherlock told softly, walking closer gaining her attention again as their bodies became inches apart- near touching. His hand gently wrapped around her wrist, he leaned to the side of her ear and whispered, "Because I took your pulse."
Something came to realization to Irene as her smile faltered, Sherlock's grip tightened feeling her heart beat change tempo. "Elevated; your pupils dilated."
Helena remembered at one point Sherlock and her had done the same thing when questioning one another, to make sure they were telling the truth. She felt the corner of her mouth stretch upwards, finally a light to this situation.
Sherlock leaned past her, grabbing the phone and turning away, voice at a level volume now. "I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive."
Irene followed him close behind, he soon turned to her stopping in his pace. "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you; the combination to your safe- your measurements. But this-" He tossed the phone in the air and brought up the locked screen. "This is your heart,"
Beep
"and you should never let it rule your head."
Panic starts to grow in her eyes, never breaking her stare with Sherlock.
"You could've chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for."
Beep
"But you just couldn't resist, could you?"
Irene's breathing weighs more, Sherlock paused to give a short smile.
"I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage,"
Beep
"Thank you for the final proof."
Just as he is about to put in the final key, Irene grabs his hand, desperation in her eyes. "Everything I said- it's not real." Mycroft looked to Helena, who was watching with a tense stance. "I was just playing the game." She whispered to him.
"I know." He replied pulling his hand free and pressing the final key. "And this is just losing."
Just as tears trail from her eyes, he lifts the screen showing her, Mycroft, and Helena the true code.
I AM
SHER
LOCKED
Irene was in despair, Sherlock held it out for his brother with his eyes still locked onto her. "There you are, brother." Mycroft walked over gladly taking the phone, Helena was in complete awe staying silent for the whole duration.
"I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight."
"I'm certain they will." He assured.
"Come, Helena." He called. Snapping out of it, she walked passed the two following Sherlock as he made his way toward the door. "If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long."
"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene questioned.
"Yes." He replied flatly, pausing in his leave. Helena looked between the two, she saw more tears threatening to stain her face, truly he had broken her.
"Please. You're right." He looked to her. "I won't even last six months."
All he had to say to her, after all this time of this 'game', he said. "Sorry about dinner." Before he continued, he stepped back. "Oh, and one request with that phone, Mycroft." His brother looked up, brows knotting at this.
"Delete anything and everything about Helena Shaw, if you please." Without a response he took Helena's hand pulling her in front of him, and left leading her out without a second look to The Woman.
Sherlock checked his watch seeing it was about quarter to eleven. Time had passed without a notice, and how it was time to go back to the flat with another closed case. In the cab, both he and Helena sat in silence. She hadn't spoken a word since her outburst with Miss Adler, nor had she even looked to Sherlock. Her brown eyes stared outside, she looked tired- but Sherlock knew that wasn't the case. His own blue shifted to his own window, his gaze was short seeing something in the corner of his vision. Turning back, he found Helena holding her phone out to him still refusing to look toward him.
"What's this?" He asked looking to the phone then to her.
"My phone."
Sherlock resisted to roll his eyes, "I see that, is there something you need to show me on it?"
"My resignation?" He turned his head at that frowning. "You know my secret, something I never want anyone to know. A shameful… filthy secret." Helena paused with a take of her breath. "I understand, you don't want to see the sight of a disgusting person like me."
Helena felt her world cracking, but this had to be done. Sherlock would drop her for sure. Feeling no hand take the phone, Helena dropped it on the empty seat between them, and leaned over asking the driver to pull over. Sherlock felt things spinning, was Helena really leaving? With the road empty, the driver easily pulled over to the curb. The 'Tramp' got right out, Sherlock was quick enough to take her phone and chuck whatever money he had at the driver and go after her.
"Where do you think you're going?" He questioned, thunder threatening above them. She just kept walking down the street, their cab gone now.
"Back where I belong!" She barked back taking longer steps, thanks to Sherlock's long legs he caught up with ease.
"And where's that?" He reached out taking her arm, and pulled her back to stop her. "Back on the streets. Stealing for money and scrounging for scraps. What life is that?"
"My life." She replied thickly.
Sherlock kept his hold tight on her, he knew her well. She ran away when trouble arose with her, whenever they both had a fight. "No it's not." Another rumble of thunder.
"Yes, it is." She hissed.
"Not anymore."
Finally Helena turned to him, yelling. "I'LL ALWAYS BE A TRAMP!" Tears streamed her face, her breathing heavy as she felt her throat grow a stinging lump inside. Tugging her arm, she tried to get from the tall man. "From the day I got to the streets, to the day I die. I will always be a tramp, nothing will change that."
Helena's head hung, letting the tears fall to the cement, along with the drops in the sky mixing with it. Cold rains fell upon the two, in the dark street night, the rain was growing thicker as the two stood getting wet. Neither cared, the rain was the only thing that kept the dead silence at bay.
Sherlock's eyes never left her, seeing the auburn hair stick around her neck, shoulders, and hung around her face. He stepped closing, his hand holding her arm got loose as it slowly traveled up her arm resting on her shoulder. All this time, for so long she thought nothing had changed. She feared so much of Sherlock leaving her at the drop of a hat, now it all showed. Waiting for the one flaw, one mistake that would make the deed happen.
Finding his mouth grew dry, Sherlock swallowed and took a sharp breath. "I can change that." He spoke, his voice gentle and soft, as he took a step closer looking down at her.
His bird; his Hawk was as frail as he had ever seen her. Not when she was blind, not when her brother was kidnapped, this was his worst sight of her. His hand felt her shoulders shake, she was crying more unable to stop. How could he get her to listen, believe his words were true? His mind cranked and worked, finding no answer. It drew a large long blank.
A word he hadn't ever thought of on Helene; impulse- His hand rose up joining the other on her free shoulder, reaching higher they cupped her cheeks, raising her head at him, her eyes tightly closed refusing to open. Her hair stuck all over, delicately his fingers tucked them behind her ears to see that pale sharp face of hers. Rain drops mixed with her tears on her soft skin, his blue silver eyes blinked away any rain drops to keep his sight on her features.
This was an error, this entire 'impulse' was a complete error to the logic of Sherlock Holmes. But so was Helena Shaw's idea of herself.
Leaning down letting his lips graze her cheek bone, her whispered into her ear, "You're perfect."
Her eyes had finally opened, just in time to blink a few times at the shock of another action. Unable to speak, move, or even breath, Helena found her lips locked with Sherlock's.
Thank you Kalliope-Korinna-Klytaimnestia, Sol981,Supix, for the follow and favorites!
Sophiewhettingsteel- Thanks!
Bored411- Indeed, it is largely important in Helena's past, which I hope to reveal sometime soon. Just don't want to throw it in the face. Glad you're enjoying the story! :3
I just recently attended the Sakura Festival wearing a Lolita outfit with my friend, we called ourselves twins wearing same design. Thanks again for the dresses! I last wore a dress in about, first grade and stopped from boys peeking under when on the bus. Guess what; first time in over a decade and a creep came up to me at the festival.
