(29) Sherlock's Secret
They arrived at the ancient castle in the early evening. Sherrinford cast a surprised glance at Irene then looked questioningly at his remaining brother. Sherlock merely shook his head, pushing the human girl inside before him. The wolves disappeared into the forest to get ready for full moon. Sherlock led Irene through the castle, letting her see the history painted on the walls. He took a longer route for the stairs leading to the bedrooms above by going through the hall of Titanic.
Irene put a hand to the up-ended stern, tracing its outline. "Mycroft was on this." Sherlock stood behind her. She felt his hands rest on her hips. "Micah said he would kill me."
"He wanted to attack us any way he could," Sherlock said. "Titanic for Mycroft. That place we were in was our hometown eons ago. Our parents were burned alive near the place where Enola's cross was. My mere interest in you nearly cost you your life. I'm sorry." He turned away & began moving for the stairs.
"Why did Micah hate you so much?"
"Mycroft destroyed most of his vampire family many ages ago."
"Payback."
"Well he tried," Sherlock said, opening a door to one bedroom. "He only managed to bring Adrian down. Micah didn't plan on John using Excalibur on him."
"That sword was Excalibur?" Irene exclaimed.
Sherlock nodded. "It's actually a vampire ridge from Merlin himself." He explained.
Irene sat on the edge of the King-sized bed. "Your kind are everywhere in legend it seems." After a moment she asked, "Where's Dracula?"
"Dead," Sherlock said. "And I mean dead! Destroyed. A pile of ash. He was the most vicious creature alive & hard to kill. Many vampires, Lycans & humans died before that was accomplished."
"So stories about him are true," Irene said.
"Quite true," Sherlock rummaged around in a drawer. He pulled out a small book & sat down next to Irene. He began showing her the pages. It was a photo album. The pictures were mostly black & white, yellowed with age. Mycroft was in most of them, along with two young girls. The last few pictures had Titanic in them as well.
"There are so few actual pictures of that ship above water," Irene mused. "Mostly the movies come up instead. Ever thought of releasing these? No pictures like them exist."
"Well before, it would be kind of hard to explain," Sherlock shrugged. "But now that the word is out, it wouldn't matter any more. In fact, it would probably be amusing to see the results. New Titanic conspiracy. What caused the ship to go down? An ancient Egyptian mummy's curse or Dracula? Read more to find out!"
Irene laughed. "You've got a point there."
"I'm definitely going to do that now," Sherlock laughed as well.
Irene suddenly glanced around. "We're in Mycroft's room, aren't we?"
"Mhm," Sherlock stood up, taking her hand. The book was left on the bed. "Come with me." He led her down the hall & into another bedroom. "Shane will watch over the pack tonight. They can't get in here so you'll be safe."
Irene glanced to the open window. "I can hear them howling."
"They're all changed by now," Sherlock said. "Once changed, they have no reasoning. You'll be ripped apart if you go outside before morning. They won't harm vampires, but you're just a meal waiting to happen."
"Is that why you brought me here, to feed me to the wolves?" Irene teased. She hoped she was just teasing. What if that was it?
"Maybe," Sherlock teased back.
Irene turned to look at him, horrified. She noticed Sherlock lying on the bed. He was completely naked & had his head tucked down on one arm. His other hand was up over & behind his head, black curls slightly splayed out. The scene looked vaguely familiar. "What are you doing?"
"We're not in Adrian's room any more."
Irene clasped her hands in front of her as she quickly surveyed the area. There wasn't much in this room, unlike Mycroft's room; though she did notice the familiar riding crop Sherlock had, lying across the top of the nightstand next to his bed, on the same side she was. "We're in yours." Irene stepped forward & picked up the crop. She held it by the ends in each hand. Sherlock merely put his face down a little lower, watching her. She suddenly understood why this looked familiar. "Nice try," She put the whip's end under his chin to force him to look up at her. She acted as if she was analyzing his neck. "but you don't even have the Heart Of The Ocean around your neck. You're cute at best."
"Cute?" Insulted, Sherlock huffed. He jerked his chin away from his own riding crop. "Well I'm not a girl. Why would I have that stupid diamond that isn't even a diamond anyway?"
"What do you mean, it isn't a diamond?"
"It's a sapphire really & Celine Dion's."
"Oh right," Irene said, lowing the whip away. "I forgot. What? I'm not THAT much into Titanic's history. Katie would know more than me."
Sherlock sat up enough to grab her hand. He lay back quickly, yanking Irene on top of him. Irene stuck the riding crop between them. It lay straight between his pecks, the small loop under his chin while the point ended below. Sherlock gasped slightly at the cold leather rod made contact with his length. "Oh now, don't be like that with me. I know you're secretly a romantic. Predictable as ever. Most females are."
Irene's lips came close to his. "So are you & don't lie about it."
Sherlock scoffed. "Romance is over-rated. After two thousand years of it, you'll bore quickly."
"Ah so all any vampire needs is a good hard fuck then?" Irene smiled at Sherlock's surprise. "What, you don't think a lady can swear? I'm a harlot, remember?" She leaned in close to whisper. "I'm not that classy."
Sherlock slid his hands around to her back & fiddled with the clasp of her dress. "You don't swear because you're a harlot; you swear because that's your masculinity kicking in."
"My masculinity?" Irene arched an eyebrow.
"You are the more dominant one, always telling Katie to do things, like keep away from me."
Irene let out a breath. "I suppose."
Sherlock finally got the back of the dress open. Irene pushed herself up on her palms against his pecks to let it fall down her arms. He pushed the top down to her waist as she lay down again, crushing her breasts against his flat chest, the whip firmly dead center of them both. They lay in silence for a while. Sherlock rubbed her spine up & down with his fingertips. Irene tried to hide it, but she was tense around him. He knew sex was the last thing she was afraid of. It was what he was that put her off. A creature of the night. Sherlock broke the silence. "Why did you leave?"
Irene took a long time in answering. "I don't know." Her head dead center of his chest, his riding crop between them, she slowly traced a few circles along his collarbone with her fingernail.
Sherlock covered her hand with his own. "I frighten you."
Irene lifted her head & moved up a little. Their lips nearly touching, she whispered, "A little." Sherlock passed his hands up her bare arms & around her back. He massaged her shoulder blades, waiting. Irene lowered her face, touching her forehead to his lips. "I was thrown from a world I know into a very dark world, just like that. It altered my view of everything. I even avoid Titanic now."
"You needed time to get used to the fact my kind exist."
"John's to," Irene added. "Now whenever I see a stranger, even on the street, my first thought is: Human, vampire or wolf? My second is...perhaps something worse."
"That's why you left."
"I took Katie with me," Irene said. "But no matter where I go, I have no idea how to keep her safe." They lay in the dark silence for several minutes, unmoving but for Sherlock's constant stroking of her exposed back.
"You don't have to do that," Sherlock finally said. "I won't hurt her for the simple fact that I don't need to. If I truly must threaten you to do something, I'll just confiscate your mobile." Irene actually snickered in spite of herself. After she settled, he went on. "I do not need her blood. Or yours. Vampires control ninety percent of the blood banks worldwide. Blood types that can actually be used on humans are passed on. We merely bottle & drink the rest as if it were wine."
Irene sighed, slowly relaxing as Sherlock continued to rub her back. "Vampires need love to," she suddenly said. "Why else did Mycroft try to raise two children? I'm sure he would have been a good father to them, but for Titanic. That's why you brought me to his room first. Why show me such things if you don't believe it yourself?"
"I merely fed your mild interest in the ship," Sherlock defended.
"Sure you did," Irene sat up, straddling his hips, sensing his erection pressing against the whip's end between them. She felt Sherlock suck in a breath & then noticed two small red glowing spots. They winked in & out of existence a few times as Sherlock arched his back under her.
"Don't move, you'll get cut."
Irene felt Sherlock's hands slide under knees to lift her up a little. Something large was moving out from under him. It was pale color. Irene's first thought was that the sheets had come alive. Sherlock suddenly sighed & lay flat again, a wing spread out on either side. He twisted his body a little so that Irene was forced to lift off. She rolled sideways to find her self on leathery membrane with hard ridges positioned throughout. She held the riding crop along one ridge as Sherlock worked off the rest of her dress & stripped her naked. She suddenly felt his fingers between her legs but only for a moment. He lay partly over her side, his right wing stretched out so that she was lying on it, his other wing curled over them like a surfer's wave, covering them both. She saw the two red spots analyzing something. Sherlock intently stared as his fingers & then licked them clean.
"What are you doing?"
"If I tell you, I'll end up thrown out of my own house."
"William."
"Please not the first name!"
The tip of the whip came up to jab at his cheek. "Then tell me what you're doing ...William...or I'll crack a wing."
The two red eyes regarded her for a moment. "You started the feminine cycle tonight."
"Great," Irene groaned. "I knew I was due sooner or later. I'm sorry."
Sherlock stared at her as he started laughing. He pushed the whip away. "You're starting to bleed in front of a vampire, yet you say you're sorry?"
"Right," Irene smacked her brow. "That was quite the oxymoron, wasn't it?"
"Mhm," Sherlock still laughed before adding, "I thought we could share this night in blood," he went on. "Vampire wings, as you saw, are sharp on the edges & at every point. It cuts every time they're released. The leftover ache is a constant dull throbbing."
"You're bleeding right now too?"
"Mhm," Sherlock rolled them both back, pulling her over him again. He had somehow lifted her forward so that she ended up sitting over his chest. He stretched out under her, hands above his head pressing up against the pillows. Irene put both hands onto the front of his shoulders & stroked towards the tops of them, then inward to his throat. She moved her hips downward & met Sherlock's thrust into her. She bore down against him as both wingtips curled upwards. Sherlock's fingertips dug into the pillow. A long deep howl drifted in through the open window. Sherlock groaned against Irene as he worked his way deeper. "Oh Gods John, shut up! Not right now!" The howl continued. John apparently didn't hear.
"You know his howl?" Irene stopped moving.
"I know all of them," Sherlock sat up, holding her tightly with both hands as he swished his wings over. He lay Irene down on the sheets & took over. "All nine of them. Mary's a guest so I'll know hers simply by hearing a new howl. Hmm, about time." The deep sound ended abruptly. Sherlock went back to work as if nothing happened. Irene would just have to grasp the moment again.
Irene felt his pressure between her legs but he didn't enter. He began working himself down, leaving feather light kisses on the dorsal line, starting on her lips, then between her breasts & slowly downward. His wings flicked forward. The tips pressed together above Irene's head framed nearly her entire body in an upside-down heart shape. Sherlock raised his head for a moment, moon light bouncing off his hair. He curled back his lips for a moment, exposing the fangs.
Irene sat bolt right up. "Sherlock wait stop!"
Sherlock gave her a pointed grin. "You still don't trust me, do you?" They shared a look, Irene searching his gleaming red eyes. "Will you relax?"
"You...won't hurt me?"
"Of course I will," Sherlock said. "You & I both know you like it as rough as I do."
"... Sherlock ..."
Sherlock felt Irene tremble between his hands on her hips. "You're not asking the right questions, Woman."
"And what would they be?" Irene demanded in a quiet voice.
"Will I kill you? Will I drain you of blood & therefore your life? Will I torture & impale you on my wings like Dracula? Or worse, inject my venom into your system & turn you?" Sherlock said, feeling Irene withdraw more with each question. He forced her to lie down again, stretching out over her. "The answer to most of those questions is no." He kissed her lips, shushing any further protests. "Relax." He moved down again, pressings his wingtips together to keep her dead center of their heart-shape. She suddenly felt his lips between her legs. She felt a soft suckling & his tongue lick at her blood. He raised his head. "Hmm menstrual blood doesn't quite taste the same as from the vein." He kissed her abdomen just below the belly button. "Relax. You're doing fine." Sherlock went down again. Irene felt his kiss on her entrance as before, then it quickly changed. She arched her back as his sabers suddenly nipped at her labia, stretching it out a little. She felt a soft sucking sensation again. He was driving her crazy, keeping her on edge.
"Sherlock!" Irene gasped, gripping the sheets on other side with her hands. At least she tried to. The sheets were slippery, soaked in his blood from the wing wounds on his back. Sherlock continued to alternate between nipping & stretching the tender flesh & drinking in her monthly blood. She partly sat up & tried to wrap her ankles around him but the insides of his wings were in the way. Irene had to settle for grabbing him on either side with her toes as she rocked her hips up & down. She grabbed the tied back curtains on either side of the bed instead. They didn't slide out of her hands. She felt poles of the headboard where the ties were attached. John's howl sounded again, more distantly.
Sherlock pushed Irene back, laying over her. His wings swept back to hover above them as he pressed in. "You'd think he'd have better things to do since Mary's here than bay at a chunk of rock in the sky."
They both stopped for a moment to giggle. Irene took that chance to turn them around. Sherlock was once more under her. Irene laid the riding crop against his throat. She held it down at either end. "Don't move," she whispered, leaning forward. She let go the crop & grabbed his wrists, one in each hand. Using a silk rope from the bed's right curtain, she bound Sherlock's hands to the headboard. Irene sat back, grabbing hold of the whip at both ends once more, still lying across his throat & looked down at him. The moon had moved, casting light across most of his bed. She saw him quite clearly, from his ice-blue wings stretched out to his red gaze watching her every move.
"You still fear me," Sherlock's voice was so low, she almost didn't hear it. "We don't have to do this now, Woman. I can wait."
Irene forced her gaze to meet that red gleam. She mentally kicked herself. What was she doing? She knew this beast was stronger than she was, not just because he was male. She knew he could easily rip himself free & shred her in seconds. She had no chance against a supernatural strength like this. He had merely allowed her to do as she pleased with him. If it came down to strength alone though, she knew she never would have managed such a feat as tying him down without getting herself killed. Irene had once thought she had this man's virginity. Now she suddenly realised that she was dealing with over two thousand years experience. Experience, she further understood, that involved a certain gentleness. Vampire with human. In that moment, Irene knew just how much Sherlock held back all these years simply so he wouldn't cause her very death. What did he want her for?
Yet here he lay under her, obediently, letting her have—letting her THINK so—complete control. Sherlock waited in compliance as she looked him over. He truly was stripped naked. Irene knew that, if vampires did have such a thing, she was seeing his very soul laid out to her. Holding the crop against his throat with her right hand, she grated her fingernails of her left hand down. "I'm ok." Irene eventually had to move to reach all the way. She put the whip's end against his heart as if it were a wooden stake while she dragged her nails down & then under to grip both his plums. She dug in until she knew blood was drawn.
Sherlock drew in shuddering breaths as he tried not to move. His head hit the pillow as Irene scraped along his length & then teased the tip of his cock. She held the whip firmly against the heart. Both knew it wouldn't destroy him. But Sherlock understood her play. Wooden stakes were falsely thought of as a way to destroy vampires. She had told him not to move & reinforced that fact with a little pressure to her 'stake'.
Irene continued to tease him for a few minutes. She pulled the riding crop down, pressing its tip along the dorsal line. As she pulled the end past the area of dark long hair, she suddenly pressed down hard. The riding crop struck home, hitting a nerve. Sherlock's entire body went into a paroxysm as a prolonged cry escaped through his gritted teeth. His wings arched under him, pushing his back up. He collapsed with a gasp. Irene felt his wings vibrating under her. Laying over him again, Irene put her hands down on either side, touching the pale membrane. She lightly stroked the inner wings, closer to his body. Sherlock twitched under her. She looked up as he tried to hide a gasp. "Vampire wings are sensitive aren't they?"
"They can be quite...erogenous...in some spots."
"Really?" Irene raised a brow as she reached for the riding crop again. She held the handle near the loop & used the other end to stretch outward along his nearly thirty-foot wingspan. Irene felt Sherlock's breath quicken as she lightly touched certain spots. She soon noticed that any place within an inch of the liquid steel ridges had more effect when touched. The wings would ripple around the whip's end as it lightly passed over.
Feeling Sherlock start to pull against his bound wrists, Irene sat over him, grinding down against his thrusts as they finally began slaking their basic lust from each other. The slight stinging pain in her flesh from being nipped & stretched almost enough to birth a baby, only fuelled Irene's need more. The riding crop slid to the side & rolled off the bed. Sherlock's wings curled upward & Irene gripped the edges of both, one in each hand as they came together. Her palms cut a little against the wing edges. Smelling new blood, Sherlock instinctively pulled free from the silk rope & caught her as she collapsed into his arms. His wings wilted to either side of the bed.
Sherlock pulled both her hands to his lips & began sucking in the blood. He licked both wounds clean until they began to dry out. He then pushed Irene to one side & collapsed his wings into his back before curling up next to her to sleep.
Irene woke late the next morning to find herself alone in the large bed. She sat up, hearing water pour down in an adjacent room. Irene stood up, glancing back at the bloodied sheets. She was covered in dried blood as well. She followed a trail of blood footprints towards the water in the next room. It was a large washroom, with a bath wide enough for three people to sit side by side. Its glass doors were closed. A humming bird sipping a red flower was on each door in cut stained pieces of glass. They were facing each other & the stem of the two flowers was the seam between the doors. Sherlock was inside a cloud of steam, washing off his own blood. Irene noticed a bottle on the counter by the sink. It was a tall green glass. Tipping it forward, a drop of blood landed on her finger. She put the bottle back where it was & watched Sherlock through the glass. Suddenly, a thought came to her. She opened the doors, reached in & pulled on a curl of his hair.
Sherlock actually squeaked like a kitten & turned around, hissing through four larger sharp teeth. He pulled them away the next moment. "Woman, you must be the only human in the world crazy enough to do that to a vampire!"
Not caring, Irene crossed her arms. "What did you mean last night that MOST of those questions were a no?"
"One is a maybe," Sherlock stepped back to let Irene in. "In case you decide you wish to become immortal. I left the option open."
"Immortal?"
"If you wish," Sherlock said. "I can grant it. I am a vampire after all."
Irene took a moment to absorb that. Immortal? Become a vampress? ...IMMORTAL?!...She noticed that Sherlock held back again, even for that, instead of simply turning her. "Oh so, you're waiting for permission?" Irene stepped in & closed the door.
"Unlike some people, I ask first," Sherlock said, handing her the soap. "Being a vampire is painful physically & mentally. Not everyone wants to turn. People you know die. You find Lycan friends, but they'll die in a few centuries, a thousand years tops. People fear you. Hate you. Don't bother trying to understand," Sherlock decided to change the subject. "You're more covered in my blood than I am."
"We did roll around a lot," Irene took the bar.
"I do ask one thing though," Sherlock went on. "Wait a while before you decide. There is something here you should see first."
With a nail, Irene lifted a few of Sherlock's more personal hairs between his legs. "Hmm, I can't imagine what more you have show me." Sherlock stood straight, glaring at her. "Well, I'm just saying." She let the hairs fall back into place, failing epically to hide a giggle.
"Hysterical," Sherlock was anything but amused. Irene snickered at him as she pushed past to reach for the showerhead. She lifted it off with one hand but suddenly found herself pressed against the glass doors as two millennia of experience entered her from behind. Sherlock wedged her firmly between himself & the wall as he pressed one hand between her breasts to hold her. His other hand ended up between her legs. Using the inner side of his wrist, he rubbed her flesh while feeling himself inside her at the same time. Irene noticed that the showerhead was set to its hardest setting & pushed it between them. Sherlock cried out as the water's force hit both of them. Irene would have doubled over if she wasn't wedged between him & the door. She nearly dropped the showerhead but Sherlock removed his other hand from her breasts downward to catch it. Irene barely registered how quick a vampire's reflexes were as he held the showerhead & her hand in place while still using his other wrist to rub them both. Neither of them lasted more than a few minutes in that tight embrace of vibration which left both of them gasping.
Sherlock worked on her long hair, washing out the dried blood. Irene held up her hair as he started to rinse it off. "You're far more sexual than I first thought."
"Most vampires are," Sherlock said distractedly, focusing on a knot in her hair.
"But I've only ever seen your human side," Irene went on. "I think this is the first time I actually see through you."
"Yet you thought you & Jim had me all figured out a few years ago." When Irene didn't answer, he went on. "You do know how lucky you are that you didn't end up as dead as Jim, right? Taking on vampires, one rarely survives."
"I almost didn't," Irene said. "Look at what Myc...never mind." She felt like kicking herself. She had been gone from Britain entirely for almost a year. No goodbyes. No word. She felt foolish mentioning the name.
"You're lucky I spied on Adrian as much as I did," Sherlock said. "The moment I found out what he was up to, I went after you."
"Thank you," Irene said quietly. "Why?"
"You were as much a victim of James Moriarty as the rest of us were," Sherlock. "I aimed to turn you, not as a vampire but on your choice of life."
"How are you doing, after...after Mycr..."
Sherlock turned her around to face him. "Don't say you understand. Don't say you know how I feel. You don't get to spend almost three thousand years with someone. At least not yet. You could not understand something like that without going through it yourself."
The subject of Mycroft officially closed, they stepped out of the shower & began drying each other off. Irene rubbed Sherlock's back with a towel. "Where exactly are your wings anyway?" She ran her left palm over his smooth, rather human, back.
"They're a semi-solid biological substance when inside," Sherlock said. "Watch, I'll open them a bit." Sherlock focused on his wings & pushed them out barely enough to open the wounds. Irene stepped back as she saw a liquid silver coalescing just inside the angry tears on each side, running diagonally from the shoulder blades down to the tailbone. Red ribbons of sinew still laced back & forth between the sides of both wounds. The silver behind the gore soon mixed with red, then was replaced by it as Sherlock bled from both wounds. He stood straight & the wounds closed. He didn't let the wings out, only opened enough to see what they were like before forming. "Liquid steel, we call it, though I can cut a diamond to dust with these."
"That looked horrible," Irene gasped.
"It felt worse," Sherlock grumbled, leading her back to the bedroom to get dressed. Irene's white dress was stained. She left it with the bed to be cleaned later. Dressed in his black velvet vest over a white shirt, complete with black trousers to match, Sherlock led Irene, in nothing but a towel, to another bedroom. "This is Enola's. You two are almost exactly the same size so borrow something of hers." Irene found a deep violet, nearly black, dress to put on & then followed Sherlock through the castle. They met with Sherrinford for a moment & after confirming that all Lycans were now changed back & sleeping, Sherlock safely led Irene outside. They went through a small woods up into an enclosed meadow with trees all around.
Irene followed Sherlock through odd-shaped stones. She stopped at one that seemed to have a grave dug in front of it. The stone seemed brand new compared to the crumpled bits all around. It was placed in front of an old stone & had Mycroft's full name & dates on it. "We're in a cemetery?"
Sherlock nodded. "We redid Adrian's grave here. Some of his things are buried there. A picture of the children. His rivet he scavenged from Titanic's stricken side. A few other things." Sherlock continued through the set of graves & crossed the meadow completely. He sat down cross-legged in front of another set of graves. There were four in all.
Irene stood behind him. She tried to read but the stones were so old, as was the language, that it didn't make sense to her. "Who are these?"
"In today's language, Elizabeth," Sherlock pointed to the grave on the left. "My wife." Irene stared at him. "These three," Sherlock went on from left to right. "Our daughter Esther. She was five years old. Then our twin sons, Alexander & Dominic. They were three years old."
"...Vampires?" Irene finally managed to asked; though somehow she knew the answer.
"No," Sherlock shook his head. "I was turned just two weeks before this happened. I never told her. Didn't know how & then ended up not having to. Elizabeth died first, thank God. They were her soul. Burying our children is not something she would have survived." He folded his hands under his chin & stared into the past. "I barely did. Lowering each of their caskets killed me like no vampric affliction ever could. Yet I did...all three of them...within the space of two days. Dominic first, a week after his mother. Two days later, Esther & then Alexander not even an hour later. "
"What killed them?"
Sherlock put his face in his hands & whispered. "England was so plagued back then. Just so plagued."
"Plagued? Plagued!" Irene took a few steps back. "My God! The Black Death?"
Sherlock looked back at her. "Woman, this is almost three thousand years ago. The foulness in this ground is long since gone!"
Irene slowly came back. She put a hand on his shoulder. "You've seen far too much."
"Don't I know it," Sherlock said under breath as he looked up at her. Irene could see his eyes were wet. "Now do you understand?" He went on in a low voice. "You once wished for John & I to be together, as did most of this country. That can't happen. He's a wolf. I'm not into wolves. Or vampires. I just want you. A human."
"Like your family," Irene finally understood. "It's how you hang on to whatever humanity you have left. How you keep the demon at bay."
"Precisely," Sherlock stood up. "Now you can decide. But remember, I only ever want a human mate. I will grant any request you have for turning, but I would cut you down to only my friend afterward." He walked away leaving Irene to stare at the graves filled with Black Death's victims; leaving her to decide: his love or immortality. She could not have both. In that moment, Irene realised just how cruel a vampire could be. The next moment, she cast that angry thought aside. It was good that he could control himself. What more could she want? Another Dracula? She looked across the meadow at Sherlock, who had paused a moment before Mycroft's remade grave. Without even looking at her, Sherlock soon continued towards the trail & disappeared.
Irene looked back at the graves of his family. She could hardly imagine what it would be like to lower the caskets yourself for your own children; especially ones so young, taken in such a brutal way. She looked back to the trees where Sherlock disappeared. He was probably gone to see John & Mary. Irene half-smiled to herself. At least the boys were getting along again.
The fans of the CSI Baker Boys were nervous during the fallout between the pair & over-joyed when Sherlock & John finally made amends. With Lestrade's pushing, it was inevitable that the pair would go back to work someday. For now, they were content rebuilding their bond, friendly only though it was, & work with the honeybees. They were simply taking a break; taking time to work things out. Irene looked down at the four graves by her feet. A lot of things out, for Sherlock anyway.
His love or immortality.
Knowing what her choice would be, Irene headed back for the castle.
-Finish
(For those who want to see what happened, please feel free to read the one-shot "Irene's Choice" For those who want to make up their own minds, leave a review to tell me "your" choice. I'm curious to know who would pick what.)
