Continuation of the conclusion to ASIB.
The man's nose was bleeding quite a lot now. It spilled over the tape and stained his cheek. Sherlock had got out his phone and, without looking at its screen, he found the number he was looking for.
At breakneck speed, John Watson slammed the front door and sprinted up the stairs.
"Jesus, what the hell is happening?"
He stood still in the doorway, alternating his look from Sherlock to the man in the chair and back to Sherlock again.
"Alex and Mrs Hudson have been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe."
Alex was seated on the sofa and had her arm around her landlady. She was no longer crying but Mrs Hudson still had her head in her hands, weeping. As soon as the names of the women of the household were mentioned by the detective, John turned behind him to find them both on the sofa. The distress caused was evident.
"Alex? Mrs Hudson, my God. Are you both all right?" He sat down and draped his arm around Mrs Hudson's shoulders protectively and he patted Alex's right hand.
"Jesus, what have they done to you?" He glared at the man in the chair.
"Oh, I'm just being so silly!" Mrs Hudson wailed, shaking her head; her hands still covering her damp face. John hugged her close and took hold of Alex's hand, squeezing reassuringly.
"That bastard hit her across her face!" Alex exclaimed. She locked eyes with the man and silently told him that he would get what was coming to him. It was obvious that Sherlock would not let this lie either.
"Downstairs. Take them both downstairs and look after them." Sherlock told John.
"I'll have a look at that." John said to Mrs Hudson as she rose and left the room. Alex got up but stayed where she was.
John and Sherlock exchanged a few words, and Alex heard the detective telling his friend in no uncertain terms that he must leave. He glanced at Alex, with his phone still stuck to his ear, indicating that she do the same.
Once inside Mrs Hudson's flat, John dabbed his landlady's sore face with TCP, which made her wince with pain. She was brave, though and seemed to be feeling a lot better.
Within just a few seconds, all three of them heard a thud outside Mrs Hudson's window.
"Oh God!" Alex knew what had happened and so did Mrs Hudson.
"Oh – that was right on my bins!"
John peered outside and then all three burst into fits of laughter, Mrs Hudson wincing as her cheek stung. John checked Alex for concussion and found that besides a bruised cheek and ear, as well as a pulled wrist, she was fine.
It sounded as if the man was being helped out of the rubbish heap and taken away. Seconds later, another thud was heard. This went on for ten minutes.
By this point, Alex was rather concerned; not about the American but about Sherlock. If he killed this man, he would go down for it. Mycroft wouldn't even be able to get him off the hook.
She decided to take matters into her own hands and go up to 221b when she heard the next thump.
"Sherlock!" she called up the stairs. Sherlock was already hurrying down them. "Please stop!"
"Why?" he said, continuing his journey outside. Alex followed him.
"Because if he dies, you will get arrested. I think you've taught him a lesson well enough."
They were both stood outside next to the heap and the half-dead man. He hadn't landed on the road, but to the side of the house where Mrs Hudson kept her bins, so the injuries weren't as severe as they could have been.
Sherlock sighed and for the first time in the nine months that she had known him, he took notice of what she said.
"Ok. Let's just leave him until the ambulance arrives, which should be any time now. He's not going anywhere."
They left him and went to the door to greet the ambulance staff. It was dark now and Lestrade was also with them.
"Sherlock…"
"What?" the detective asked.
Lestrade didn't have to say anything. Look on his face was enough to show his friend that he had behaved badly.
"You all right?" Sherlock asked, leaning into her sideways as he watched the staff carry the unfortunate man into the van.
"Er, yeah. I'm good. Mrs Hudson seems to be ok."
"I know she is." he said softly.
"How do you know?" Alex asked, looking up at him. The flashing lights of the ambulance and police cars as well as the orange streetlights illuminated his white face clearly in the dark. He turned his head to look at her with the most charismatic smile. It was his usual 'how do you think I know?' look. She couldn't help but feel charmed and had to look away from him.
"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?" Lestrade asked.
"Oh, it's a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." Lestrade got the picture and nodded.
"Goodnight, Alex." he said before departing.
"John is right, you know." Sherlock said after a few moments. They were still outside, breathing in the cold air of the evening.
"Sorry, what?" Alex asked.
"That being here isn't good for you. This is the third occasion you have been injured."
"Sherlock, I'm not leaving. By the way, how did you know he said that to me that night?"
"Because he mentioned it to me."
"Actually, it's the fourth. But I don't care, they've been relatively minor." She was getting cold now, which was aggravating the pain in her wrist. She placed her hands into her pockets and shivered slightly.
"Third. One of them was of your own making, remember?" Sherlock said as he turned to the door and opened it for her. Always the gentleman.
"Yes, yes, yes, I know. I should have never agreed to the fight, blah, blah, blah. You and John didn't let me forget it for days!"
"Quite rightly too!" Sherlock said as he walked past her to enter Mrs Hudson's flat. Again, he opened the door for Alex and they both went into their landlady's kitchen, where she and John were sitting.
Mrs Hudson held her head with her hand (it was probably hurting like hell) and looked like she was going to breakdown any moment.
"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. Alex you may have to also. We need to look after them." John said as they both entered.
Mrs Hudson protested and Sherlock offered his own assurance that Mrs Hudson was fine.
"No, she's not," John argued, "look at her. She's got to take some time away from Baker Street and I'll say it again, Alex, you need some time away, too. You can both go and stay with Mrs Hudson's sister. Doctor's orders."
"John, I'm fine." Alex reassured him. Sherlock had helped himself to a mince pie from Mrs Hudson's fridge as if he were her son who had just come home from school.
"Don't be absurd." Sherlock replied, biting into the pie with more relish than he ever had when eating something. He really needed the sugar. The new found knowledge that Irene Adler was alive and well had instantly revived him from his sorrowful state.
"They're both in shock, for God's sake and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it anyway?" John asked Sherlock.
Alex had to smile as the detective turned his head to his landlady and acknowledged that he knew where it was. The safest place he knew.
Mrs Hudson plunged her hand down her top and retrieved the phone from her bra. She miraculously transformed from being a woman in shock from a scary ordeal to being a strong matriarch.
"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot! Ha, I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry!"
"OMG!" Alex cried as she realised why a thudding noise didn't come from the gown earlier when it was thrown to the floor. That lady was clever. Cleverer than even Alex gave her credit for and she secretly felt ashamed for underestimating her. Sherlock expressed his gratitude with a simple 'thank you'.
"Shame on you, John Watson." he declared. He set the pie down on the table and, quite shockingly, put his arm around Alex, drawing her closer to him. He then stepped towards Mrs Hudson, taking Alex with him and put an arm around her. Alex automatically wrapped an arm around his back, although his figure was clothed heavily and she wasn't sure if she was hugging him or his coat.
"Mrs Hudson and Alex leave Baker Street? England would fall!"
They all smiled and felt extremely close as a surrogate family. John knew then that Mrs Hudson was, indeed, ok and Alex was too.
They all agreed that tea was in order. Sherlock was looking healthier already and it was clear that his usually tiny appetite was back. He devoured another mince pie and some digestive biscuits with his tea.
"So, gay clubbing is off the agenda." Alex declared, looking pointedly at John.
"Gay clubbing?" Sherlock asked as if she had quoted a saying he had never heard before.
"A gay club. I was going to go to G-A-Y for the New Year and John was going to come along, but I think that given the events of the day it's good we're not going."
"John agreed to go to a gay club?" Sherlock asked, looking at his best friend with curiosity.
"Sherlock, you don't have to be gay to go to a gay club, you know?"
"That's what I said." Alex added. John smiled at her.
"Not one of the guys from Blackheath called me. Typical."
"Don't worry, you have us to cheer you up!" Mrs Hudson said with a grin, rubbing his arm.
"Oh, God…" Sherlock uttered under his breath. Only Alex heard him and she lightly kicked his leg under the table. The look of annoyance on his face was priceless.
Sherlock and John left the flat shortly before midnight. Alex made one last check on the landlady before remembering that her cat had been on her own all this time.
She said goodbye and hurried to her flat with a guilty conscience. Before she opened the door, she could swear that a violin was playing Auld Lang Syne.
Mitzie screamed a volley of meows at her mummy as soon as she entered. A pouch of gourmet food was enough to placate the kitten into being on good terms with her again.
Sherlock was up and out of the house early on New Year's Day. John had decided to go and get some wine and nice food to make up for not celebrating the New Year.
Alex received an email from her publisher giving her the details of the book launch and what passage of her story she would be reading. Alex replied and reminded her publisher that she suffered from a bout of 'stage fright' at the first launch and had to get someone to read it for her.
From: Peter Phillis
To: Alexandra Price
All the more reason for you to read it yourself this time! Practise reading it in front of friends and family. Or your pussy (cat) ;)
From: Alexandra Price
To: Peter Phillis
Fine, but if I cock it up, don't say I didn't warn you! Happy New Year, you bastard! Lol! X
From: Peter Phillis
To: Alexandra Price
You too, bitch. Only joking, x
Alex was glad she got on so well with Peter – even though he could be as sly as a fox.
Sherlock and John returned from whatever they were both doing at midday. Somehow, John had found an open shop to buy some groceries. Of course, Sherlock didn't help at all with the bags. Alex was in the lobby trying to catch a spider in a glass (before it could squeeze under her flat door so Mitzie could eat it) when they both came in.
"Oh, I'll help you with that, John. Just let me get rid of this little critter." she said as she went to dump the chunky black arachnid outside.
"No, can I have it?" Sherlock asked, turning back from the stairs and walking towards her.
"No, don't be so cruel!" Alex replied as she saw the creature scuttle away.
"What makes you think I'd be cruel?" This question made Alex want to laugh.
"Why else would Sherlock Holmes want a spider? To love and care for? You'd probably torture the poor thing with some inhumane experiment."
"But you hate spiders…" he said, confusedly as she walked back in and put the glass down on the small table, making a mental note to clean it later.
"Yes, but I can't stand anything suffering; even creepy-crawlies."
John handed her two bags and they climbed the stairs after Sherlock. They placed the bags on the kitchen table while Sherlock went to his room.
John extracted a bottle of wine and went into Sherlock's room. Did Sherlock ever drink alcohol? Alex had never seen him do so.
"Hey, Sherlock!" John called out. Alex went to the kitchen to observe what could only be described as a very bloody transparent plastic bag full of kidneys. Why couldn't he put them in black bags? She didn't want to mix the food that John had bought with them but, thankfully, most of the stuff he had bought didn't require chilling or freezing.
Alex was sure she heard the word 'client' being uttered from Sherlock's room. She peered down the short corridor and saw both the men staring in the direction of Sherlock's bed.
"John moved forward so he was out of view from the door. Sherlock just continued to stare.
"Come on, wake up." John said soothingly. Who was asleep in Sherlock's bed?
Alex went tentatively into the room and a small gasp escaped her lips as she saw who it was. It was none other than The Woman herself. Her inch-thick make-up had gone and her hair was damp, curly and long. She was dressed in a green cardigan; she obviously had few possessions to her name. A big change from the thick fur coat, tight black leather trousers and boots she had been seen in days before.
Irene stirred and then woke. She knew fully well where she was, for she had planned to be here. However, she woke with a startled expression that Alex felt like laughing at. She saw John by her side and then looked to Sherlock and Alex. She smiled at them both.
"What are you doing here?" Alex asked.
"She's hiding out." Sherlock answered for Irene, who looked impressed.
She held the bedclothes around her as she sat up and looked at the three people around her.
"I'm sorry to have to do this but I had no choice."
"You gave up your 'protection', found out that going it alone didn't work for you and you've come here to get it back." Sherlock deduced.
"Yes, that's true. I also needed somewhere to sleep. I haven't had much of it lately."
"Clearly." Sherlock said flatly.
"Come on," John said to Irene, "You can take a shower if you like and then we can talk."
Irene then appeared to be anxious and pulled the duvet and blankets around her tightly.
"Err, I don't have…"
"She's not wearing much. Here." Sherlock said, throwing his second-best dressing gown at her.
"I'll make something to eat." John said, patting Irene's shoulder lightly.
Sherlock left the room abruptly, knocking Alex a little. She followed him and John too left Irene to do what she needed.
Irene arrived in the living room within fifteen minutes. Alex and John had already finished their jam sandwiches, chocolate chip muffins and tea. Sherlock was just nibbling his whilst typing at the speed of light on his Mac laptop. Once the lady in the blue gown emerged, his attention was focused only on her.
This observation made Alex wonder. If he were to walk into a room full of dead bodies and several mysteries, would he divert all his attention to Irene if she were there too and forsake the prospect of solving multiple crimes?
"Here, have these." John proffered, handing Irene a plate of sandwiches and a muffin a cup of tea in his other hand. She took them and settled in Sherlock's leather chair.
The boys were seated at the desk but Sherlock had moved the chair so he was able to be within a few feet of her. Alex watched her as she ate.
After sipping her tea a few times, Alex saw that Irene's wide eyes were on her. Her cheeks were plumped up ever so slightly, showing Alex that Irene was smiling behind the cup. Alex knew what that smile meant and Irene was aware that she would interpret it in the way it was intended.
Alex grimaced and took the plate away, wanting to tell that woman to piss off back to wherever she had come from.
"So who's after you?" Sherlock asked her once they had all settled back down.
"People who want to kill me." Irene answered.
"Who's that?"
"Killers?"
"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific." John added.
"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them." Sherlock stated.
"It worked for a while…"
"Except you let John know you were alive and therefore me."
"I knew you'd keep my secret." Irene said, looking back at Alex pointedly.
"Excuse me," Alex said loudly, "but what the hell is she talking about?"
John looked a tad uncomfortable and let out a few 'ums' before he spoke. Sherlock indicated that he wasn't willing to fill her in by turning to lock eyes with his friend.
"She revealed herself to be alive yesterday when I went out. Sherlock followed me and… that's now we found out."
"Ok…" Alex said. It didn't take the lady long to show herself. Sherlock turned back to Irene to continue their conversation.
"But you couldn't keep your little secret, could you?" Sherlock deduced. He knew that a troublemaker like Irene wouldn't be able to play possum too long without venturing out again.
"You did, didn't you?" Irene said to Sherlock in a similar tone she would use if she had declared that he had saved her life. She snapped out of her gratefulness "Where's my camera phone?"
"It's not here. We're not stupid." John said, putting down his mug of tea.
"Then what have you done with it?"
"Flushed it down the loo." Alex said with a cheeky smile.
"Ha ha!" Irene replied with as much sarcasm. "If they've guessed you've got it they'll be watching you."
"If they've been watching me they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."
"I need it."
John remarked that they couldn't just go to get it. He came up with the idea that Molly, Sherlock's Homeless Network and the staff at Speedy's could help. Sherlock commended him on his excellent consideration of the matter but when John offered to put his proposal into practice, Sherlock revealed that the phone was, all this time, in his trouser pocket.
My undying gratitude goes out to all readers and my beta, Holly. PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW! The more feedback the better a writer I will become.