A big hello and thank you to my beta, Holly. You are the nuts. X
The beautiful sound of violin music curled its way through the air of 221b on New Year's Eve. It was a slow and melancholy song that Sherlock had played repeatedly and it had become longer and fuller each time, changing a couple of times. Was the amazingly talented detective composing or learning a new piece?
Alex had practically become a hermit for the last two days and had only left her flat to get the post and to make occasional visits to the shops. Less could be said for John, whom Alex was sure was going mad with boredom. Usually it would be the other way around with Sherlock being the one who went stir-crazy.
New Year's Eve morning was spent sitting in the dark green lobby of the house with Mitzie curled up on Alex's lap. She read Queen of the Damned whilst letting Sherlock's music send her into the zone of the literature she was absorbing. The music was slow and sad; a reflection of Sherlock's emotional state, like he was trying to channel and comprehend it.
Not once had Alex and John seen Sherlock show visible signs of grief, but at the same time, there had not been an event that caused the detective to express any negative emotions; even the murder of the old woman in the flat in Glasgow. John had confirmed to the world on his blog that Sherlock simply didn't care about a stranger's death. However, when it was someone he loved, his face became blank and he appeared to withdraw himself from the rest of the world.
Alex knew deep down that Sherlock Holmes wasn't emotionally shallow like a psychopath or sociopath would be. He felt emotions like anyone else but had built up a barrier so that feelings would not affect him. When he became susceptible to an extreme emotion, he would not understand it or know how to cope with it.
Was it is high intelligence, combined with possible Asperger's, that had caused him to be so antisocial? Alex found her mind wandering in and out of the opposing, yet strikingly similar, worlds of vampires and Sherlock Holmes while slouched in the chair.
When the clock on the mantelpiece chimed at twelve, Mitzie took this as a cue to get up and stretch, which brought Alex out of her trance. The kitten, who was getting quite rather big, leapt to the floor and went to sit pointedly outside Alex's front door. Alex let Mitzie go into the flat and, on the spur of the moment, decided to have lunch at Speedy's. She texted Molly to see if she wanted to meet up but Molly declined to join her. Toby was ill and she had to make an emergency vet appointment.
Just like every year, G-A-Y was hosting an extravagant New Year's bash and Alex had planned to go. She had been clubbing more times in that week than she had in the last three months and it was becoming a rather favourable way of clearing her mind. It also helped to let her hair down after completing the laborious task of writing her second novel. Plus, she had been cooped up for a couple of days and was itching to get out again.
"Fancy coming?" Alex asked John, who had also visited Speedy's for lunch and was already halfway through a bacon sandwich.
"Err…" He stared into space for a while, considering his answer. "You know what, I might. I'm sure Sherlock will be fine for one night. God knows I need a night out, but I'm not sure I'd fit in. I've never been to a gay club."
"Oh, don't be silly! Anyone can go; gay, straight, bi, trans…"
"Oh, ok. But if the guys from Blackheath call I might forfeit clubbing for a pint with my old rugby mates, so I'm not making any promises. Thanks for asking, anyway."
"Fine, fine."
The thought of John gyrating amused Alex. He would probably try chatting to as many ladies as possible. They went back into the house and John invited Alex upstairs. After a couple of hours, they were presented with sausage and mash by Mrs Hudson. Sherlock was still playing his violin and didn't touch his food.
"You composing?" John asked when Sherlock wrote a few notes on the music sheet in front of him.
"Helps me to think." He muttered nonchalantly.
John looked at both Mrs Hudson and Alex, who couldn't think of anything to say. Mrs Hudson held up Sherlock's plate and sighed. She wasn't going to tell the detective about how important it was to eat, even if it was just a little, but decided against it and dropped the untouched food into the kitchen bin.
Sherlock began the song again and he barely began when John asked a question that Alex was sure he was nervous to pose.
"What are you thinking about?"
As if John's words had stung him, Sherlock abruptly stopped playing. Setting his violin down quickly, he spun around to face John's laptop that was switched on and open on the table.
"The count on your blog is still stuck at one thousand, eight-hundred and ninety-five." He said, pointing at the screen. Alex peered around to have a look and, sure enough, the number of hits on John's blog hadn't increased for months.
"Yes. Faulty. Can't seem to fix it."
Sherlock picked up Irene's camera phone and held it in both hands whilst tapping the keys frantically with his thumbs. His voice seemed anxious as he spoke.
"Faulty, or you've been hacked and it's a message." An error emanated from the phone to show the person who had tried the code that it was wrong. Saying that Sherlock looked disappointed was an understatement. He lowered the phone and stared at the wall opposite him.
"Just faulty."
Sherlock resumed playing his violin, facing the window. It was as if he didn't want to see, hear or even know that there were people in the room who were concerned about him.
"Right. Right, I'm going out for a bit…" John said to his friend, who ignored him. John nodded in acknowledgement of Sherlock's obliviousness and proceeded to the kitchen where Alex was making tea and Mrs Hudson was clearing up.
"Listen," John said to Mrs Hudson, "has he ever had any kind of… girlfriend, boyfriend a relationship, ever?"
"I don't know." Mrs Hudson replied.
"How can we not know?"
"He's Sherlock! How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?"
Alex already knew that Sherlock had never felt infatuation or anything akin to love before. Her chats with Sherlock over the months gave her all the information she needed to deduce the detective's love life. She concluded that this was another reason he felt so strongly about Irene Adler. The woman was his first love.
All three of the people in the kitchen watched the detective as he moved the box over the strings slowly and swayed slightly. John flipped his eyes and smiled before leaving the flat.
Alex set Sherlock's tea down on the table and softly let him know that it was there. She didn't expect him to respond but just as he did with John when he asked Sherlock what he was thinking about, it was as if her words had hit a nerve and caused an inexplicable physical reaction in him.
He whipped off his blue dressing gown to reveal a white shirt and black trousers. His arm collided with Alex's shoulder as he barged past her toward the entrance to the flat. After putting on his jacket, he rushed out the door and slammed the front door behind him, leaving Mrs Hudson and Alex dismayed at the sudden departure and the display of impulsive energy after days of lethargy.
"Ok…" Alex muttered slowly. She picked up Sherlock's tea and tipped it into the sink before picking up her own.
"Well, I'm going to give the lobby a good going over, Alex. What are you going to do?"
"Probably just chillax for the rest of the day until later. I'm sure the boys won't mind if I borrow the mug." Alex said before she descended the stairs whilst blowing cool air into the steaming mug of tea. Mrs Hudson took a little longer to get downstairs with her hip.
Scarcely had she been in her flat for five minutes when a huge crashing noise came from the lobby. Alex jumped up from her sofa, muted the telly and listened. Not a lot of listening was necessary as the next sound was an awful cry coming from Mrs Hudson.
Mitzie ran into the bedroom to hide and Alex ran up the stairs to her door.
"Mrs Hudson, what's wrong…" Alex stopped dead. The door of 221b was only slightly ajar but had obviously been forced open by the new occupants of the room who were three men in black suits, two of whom Alex recognised.
"Where is Sherlock Holmes, old woman?!" one of them shouted at the terrified landlady. This was the same man whom Sherlock had disarmed at Irene's house. Another of the men had seen Alex and had lunged forward to grab her by the wrist.
"What the hell is going on?" Alex cried as her joint was pulled and jerked by the man, who was forcing her into the main part of the lobby.
"I don't know…" Mrs Hudson responded. She was apprehended immediately and hoisted from the floor.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Alex demanded, but she was soon silenced by the feel of crushing arms around her ribs.
"Where is the camera phone? ANSWER ME!" the first man yelled, holding a gun to Mrs Hudson's head. Mrs Hudson tried to ask what he was talking about but the shock had rendered her voice mute.
Alex tried to speak, scream or anything, but now there was a leather gloved hand covering her mouth and she was shaking violently.
"Well, I suppose that the great detective has it hidden somewhere upstairs so let's go up, shall we?"
With that, both the women were dragged up the stairs. Mrs Hudson did whatever she could to thwart their efforts but her attempts were ineffectual. She scratched at the wall and Alex kicked the skirting several times. Mrs Hudson instinctively called Sherlock's name up the stairs, even though he was out. Alex tried moving too but her ribs were tightly wrapped.
Once they were in the living room, Mrs Hudson and Alex were made to sit in chairs in the middle of the room with guns pointed to their heads. Flashes of Alex's meeting with Moriarty ghosted through her mind and as she stared down the barrel of the gun, her vision blurred. She felt a sense of being airborne and, just as if her experience of succumbing to the Valium that Sherlock once furtively administered was repeating itself, she slipped away from reality.
"Wake up!" a male voice shouted. His hand tapped her face harshly. Everything was hazy and Alex had to blink about ten times before she could see properly again. The right side of her head really hurt. Her ear was worse – it had been crushed against her skull from the force of the fall.
"Get up!" the man yelled, pulling her up roughly by her arm. Alex was still recovering and had no strength to fight back. However, she was fully alert when she looked over at Mrs Hudson.
The woman was weeping into Sherlock's dressing gown. She was clutching it tightly and had bundled it up on her lap as she didn't want any of it to touch the floor. The thing that really caught Alex's attention was the gash across her landlady's cheek. The bastard with the ring on his hand had punched her!
"You fucking – " She didn't get to finish for the leather gloved had was once again clamped over her mouth. She tried to scream but was almost winded by the effort of trying to struggle free.
"Stop it, you pathetic old woman!" yelled the blonde American at Mrs Hudson, the one who had a gun aimed at her. He whipped away the blue silk dressing gown and crouched down to meet her gaze.
"I'll ask you again, where is it?" His voice was calm but menacing, like a warning. Mrs Hudson murmured something that sounded like 'I don't know' but it was hard to tell as she had replaced the dressing gown covering her face with her hands.
It was then that Alex remembered something. Sherlock had placed the camera phone into the pocket of his dressing after he found that 1895 was the wrong passcode. It was in the very item that Mrs Hudson had been holding! When the man with the gun had removed it from her grasp and thrown it to the floor, there had been no sound of a thump that the phone would have made. Where had it gone?
"Are you going to remain quiet? Or am I going to have to silence you for good?" the man who had hold of Alex asked her. Once again, a feeling of déjà vu swept over Alex. Her life had been in danger before and here she was again. Both of the women in the room were sincerely hoping that the boys would come home soon. Neither of them knew where they were and had been given no opportunity to call for help.
Nodding quickly, the hand released its grip from Alex's face. She was made to sit in the chair next to Mrs Hudson. Her cardigan was torn a the shoulder and her wrist was bruised. Alex swore to herself that these men would pay.
"Now, young lady, I would like you to help me with something. You must know that Sherlock has a particular item in his possession that we want. Do you know where it is?" Alex had to pluck up as much courage as she had in her body to deliver her next line, which was a lie.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She hoped the subtle shifts in her body wouldn't give it away that it was a false statement. She ducked as she saw a clenched fist approach her; in some way she had been expecting it.
Her face was saved and it had skimmed her shoulder, crashing into the back of the chair. Once the man knew that Alex had not received the punishment he meant to deliver, he grabbed her by the lapels of her polo shirt and pulled her to her feet.
The man's face was so close she could feel his hot breath on her face. Only the tips of her toes were touching the ground.
"Leave her alone!" Mrs Hudson cried. This earned her another smack, but across the back of the head.
"You do know what it is we're talking about and you do know where it is don't you?"
Alex swallowed, looked him in the eye and kept her breathing even.
"I don't. I swear I don't." She almost choked on her words. The man opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by his colleague, who was standing at the window.
"He's coming."
"Sherlock..?" Alex whispered. She managed to lock eyes with Mrs Hudson, who tried to look as pleased as she felt.
"Sit down, don't move and keep facing forward or else Sherlock will be solving a double murder right here in his living room. Do you get me?" the man who was still holding Alex said through clenched teeth. Alex nodded and he released her. She sat down and stared at the door as the man walked behind her, the gun held at her head again.
It was a minute or two before they heard footsteps creeping up the stairs. The door opened and the tall figure of Sherlock Holmes walked calmly into the room. He first looked at the two ladies sitting in the middle of the room.
"Oh, Sherlock! Sherlock." Mrs Hudson cried in partial whisper. Alex too felt herself welling up at his presence.
"Don't snivel both of you. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." he said in an impassive tone. Finally looking at the intruders, he continued. "What a tender world that would be!"
"Oh, please, sorry, Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson whimpered, shaking her hands in the air. The American behind Mrs Hudson was next to speak.
"I believe you have something that we want, Mr Holmes."
"Then why don't you ask for it?"
His attention was back on the ladies in front of him. He came to Alex first and examined her wrist and lapels before checking her face. He noticed the bruise forming on the side of her face and knew how she came by it.
Mrs Hudson offered her own wrist to Sherlock for his expert eyes to look over. He observed the bruise, the tear in her clothing and the cut on her cheek.
"Oh, we've been interrogating these two but they don't seem to know what we're talking about. Either that or they're lying. But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr Holmes?"
His focus changed from Mrs Hudson's face to the speaker for only a second before he spoke again.
"I believe I do." There was a threat in his voice. His mind was calculating his next move with all the skill of a fox hunting its prey. The man who had assaulted Mrs Hudson's face had practically signed his own death warrant.
Sherlock then straightened up and took two steps back.
"What are you going to do?" Alex asked him under her breath. Maybe he didn't hear her or maybe he did, except he had something more important to do. Mrs Hudson continued to weep anxiously.
"First get rid of your boys." he instructed.
"Why?" the American asked.
"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room."
The blonde American sighed and then relented to agreeing to Sherlock's request. He told the two men at his flanks to go to the car.
"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me, you know who I am. It doesn't work!" Sherlock warned him. Alex was in awe at how focused the detective was in danger and how easily he could turn a situation around.
The men vacated the room before Sherlock gave his next instruction.
"Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me."
"So you can point a gun at me?"
Sherlock raised his arms outwards, his palms visible, his coat opening slightly.
"I'm unarmed."
"Mind if I check?"
"Oh, I insist!" Sherlock quipped.
Still with the gun in his hand and poised at the ready should he need it, the American walked over to Sherlock and began to search him. The detective rolled his eyes when the man moved behind him and then, out of nowhere, produced a small spray can. He turned sharply and sprayed its content in the man's eyes.
Just as a cry of pain pierced the air, Sherlock leaned back and with as much force as he could, he head-butted the man in the face. A large crack was heard, which was undoubtedly the breaking of the man's nose. He fell back, unconscious, into the sofa.
"Moron!" Sherlock uttered. He placed the can onto the table then went over to the injured women. Alex had gotten up from her chair and was crouched at her landlady's side, clutching her hand. Mrs Hudson smiled at Alex with more effort than she should have used considering the state her face was in.
The next moment was one that Alex knew she would cherish. It was a rare moment when Sherlock showed his caring side and even if he did, it was so subtle that one would have to read between the lines. But right now, it was a great comfort to know that he held his two friends' wellbeing in such high regard.
He rubbed both their arms gently to avoid causing their bruises to twinge.
"You're all right now, both of you, you're all right."
They reassured him that they were ok. However, Alex was sure that Mrs Hudson wasn't. She hoped that John would arrive home soon and check her over.
Sherlock turned around to observe the unconscious man lying awkwardly over the sofa. He walked over and told Alex and Mrs Hudson to take his place.
Although Sherlock was a tall and thin man, he was somehow extraordinarily strong. The man was dragged roughly into the centre of the room and thrown onto the chair.
"Alex, get me some duct tape and scissors." he called out to her.
She went into the kitchen to look for what had asked for. It took her nearly a minute and by this point, the man was coming round. Sherlock stood impatiently by his side and was alerted immediately to his regaining consciousness. Alex jumped as she heard a smacking noise and saw that Sherlock had hit him around the face with his gun, knocking him out again.
"Hurry up with that tape and scissors!" he called out. Alex was shaking still and found that the shock of the events of the day had clouded her mind and body. She breathed deeply, trying to apply the detective's methods of blocking external stimuli from the nerve endings, therefore ensuring that full focus could be applied those in moments of stress and anxiety.
Sherlock thanked her grudgingly (she took far too long to retrieve the items) as she handed him the tape and scissors to him. She took up her place beside their landlady as Sherlock tied the man to the chair and placed a large band of tape across his mouth.
TBC…