It was uncomfortable. Madeline shifted and resisted the urge to pull the dress's neckline higher. She was cold, but Sherlock adamantly refused to lend her his jacket.
"That would ruin the illusion." He had told her. Madeline huffed and rubbed her arms to try and keep herself warm. She knew Sherlock was nearby, but she was supposed to feign waiting for him until the suspect took notice.
"And that could be all damn day." She muttered under her breath. The sun was quickly setting, bringing temperatures down with it. Madeline stayed at the spot Sherlock had told her to and waited in the snowdrifts by the road. After a while she began humming to herself until her phone buzzed.
Stop humming. –SH She texted him back quickly.
How close are you?
Close enough. –SH Madeline rolled her eyes and waited a few more minutes until the street was fully lit with the glow of the nightlife. The restaurant across the street was starting to amass a waiting queue. It was one of the fancier places that required reservations.
When is this guy coming? She sent the text and waited, covertly watching couples and parties pass her on the sidewalk and trying to ignore the looks they gave her as she stood alone in a formal dress with barely any sleeves.
One man gave her an exceptionally long and curious look as he passed her that lingered a bit too long for Madeline's liking. Her phone buzzed, and when she reached to check it an arm looped around her waist. She pulled away instinctively, but stopped when Sherlock chuckled.
"Excellent, keep perpetrating the idea we hate each other." He murmured into her ear. "He's still watching you." Madeline quickly pulled a face as Sherlock walked her to the entrance of the restaurant, making sure the entire line of people waiting in the queue could see. Sherlock waltzed her to the front of the line and said "Holmes." very loudly. The gentleman at the door flipped through his reservation list, then admitted them. Madeline let Sherlock escort her inside the restaurant and away from the disgruntled glares of the other people in line.
They were seated at a small table. The waiter brought them glasses of water first, then came back with a wine menu.
"I'm fine." Madeline told him with a smile.
"We'll take a Bordeaux," Sherlock interrupted her coolly, "And leave the bottle." The waiter nodded and left, and Madeline leaned onto the table and pressed her face into her hand.
"God no." She said, "You're not going to make me drink, are you?" Sherlock gave her a blank look.
"Keep your lips pressed together and only take small, occasional sips. I never said you had to down the whole bottle yourself." He said. His eyes darted over her shoulder, diligently tracking someone's movement across the dining room. Madeline resisted the urge to turn around and see if it was the man who had been looking at her earlier.
"That's him." Sherlock murmured to her lowly. "Laugh." Madeline blinked at him for a second, but giggled nervously when he raised his eyebrows at her. He rolled his eyes. "Laugh like you don't mean it." He chastised. Madeline laughed with a bit of a forced tone, not taking her eyes from the tablecloth.
"Excellent, he's looking this way." Sherlock notified her. "And here comes the wine." The waiter poured both of them a first glass of wine, then left. Sherlock quickly downed his and Madeline gently rolled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers indecisively.
"Drink." The detective demanded loudly. Madeline glared at him and took a sip of her wine. It was heavy and bitter, and she didn't like it at all. Sherlock made a show of reaching for the bottle of wine and filling his glass far past the appropriate level. Some of the alcohol sloshed out of the wine glass and stained the pristine tablecloth. Madeline could feel the room heating up.
"You're being embarrassing." She hissed at him.
"Good." The detective responded carelessly, and Madeline could only hope that everything was part of his plan. The waiter came back to take their orders, but Sherlock waved him off.
"You know, I realized something." He said a bit too loudly. Madeline felt like sinking down in her chair, no doubt half the restaurant was looking at them. Sherlock took a large gulp of the wine and she hoped that his alcohol tolerance had gotten better than it had been after John's stag party.
"Ask me what I realized." He ordered obnoxiously, pointing at her with the hand that was holding the almost empty cup of wine.
"What did you realize?" Madeline almost whispered. He'd gone from zero to a hundred much too fast for her to keep up, and instead of being on board with the plan she just wanted to leave. Too many people were looking over and Sherlock's plan was working too well. She risked a glance around and saw that most of the diners were actually ignoring them, but the man from earlier was watching them over his breadbasket cautiously. Sherlock leaned across the table and pretended to kiss Madeline's cheek.
"Excellent, now he thinks you need help." He said.
"I do, tone it down a bit." She whispered, but Sherlock was already sitting back in his chair.
"And look at you, you've put on so much weight!" He said loudly. Madeline bit the inside of her cheek and reminded herself that he was acting the role of an offensive drunk.
"He'd better be." She muttered to herself.
"Sorry, what? Muttering under your breath again? You're most definitely good for nothing besides gossip." Sherlock said obnoxiously, giving up on pouring himself more wine and swigging straight from the bottle. Madeline masked her horrified expression by covering her face with her hands; no doubt her face was as red as the wine.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask that you leave." The waiter said, regarding both Madeline and Sherlock carefully. Madeline stood, ready to go; but Sherlock took a ridiculous amount of coaxing to rise from his seat and another bout of arguing to put down the wine bottle. He leaned on Madeline's shoulder heavily as she escorted him out of the restaurant, a complete reverse of how they'd entered.
"Thanks for ruining another place to have dinner." She told him under her breath. "Now we can never come back."
"Their wine is overpriced anyway!" Sherlock exclaimed, making it as hard as he could for Madeline to get him out the door. As soon as they were in the street the detective dropped the act.
"Don't be cross." He said, "I told you what the plan was beforehand." He still leaned on Madeline's shoulder to maintain the air that he couldn't stand; but he seemed to be perfectly sound.
"How are you not drunk off your rocker?" Madeline asked him incredulously.
"Yeast." Sherlock said simply. "I swallowed a few spoonfulls of baker's yeast before I left Baker Street. It breaks down alcohol similar to how your liver would. An excellent trick to stave off alcohol."
"I still think you're going to be incredibly smashed in the morning." Madeline told him. The detective laughed softly and didn't remove his weight from her shoulder.
"Excuse me! Miss!" A voice called from behind them. Sherlock's charitable expression dropped into a serious look.
"Here he comes, be on your guard." He murmured into Madeline's ear. "You have your phone." He forcibly dug his feet into the ground, stopping Madeline, and turned them both around to face the stranger, still feigning being drunk.
"And who are you?" The detective demanded loudly. The man held up his hands warily.
"You just looked like you needed some help getting home." He said amicably. "And I didn't think it would be safe for you-"His eyes darted to Madeline. "To go home alone in such a state." She couldn't help but feel touched by his kind words and sincerity, despite Sherlock's sober warnings. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sherlock silenced her by clamping his hand over her mouth.
"Shh, your opinion isn't needed." He slurred before turning to the man. "And what's your name?"
"Kane Anderson," The stranger said, sticking his hand out. Sherlock stared at it disdainfully while Madeline shrugged his hand off of her mouth and shook Kane's politely.
"Very nice to meet you." She said.
"Did I say it was nice to meet him?" Sherlock asked, turning and glaring at her. Kane stepped forward.
"Maybe we should get you home." He said seriously. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he pushed himself away from Madeline. She stumbled and caught herself.
"I know where I am." He boasted. "I'm heading back to the flat. You stay and walk with this riff-raff if you want. Shezza out." Finished, the detective turned and stumbled away down the street. Madeline resisted the sudden urge to laugh at him and instead bit her cheek and sighed to cover it.
"Wow, your man's kind of a git." Kane said.
"He has his redeeming moments." Madeline said, then she quickly remembered she wasn't supposed to be on good terms with the detective and cleared her throat. "His drinking has gotten a bit out of hand, though." Sherlock had turned the corner at the end of the street, but Madeline knew he was loitering around and listening. He wouldn't just leave.
"Would you like to walk?" Kane offered, "It'd give him a chance to put some distance between the two of you; get a head start." Madeline hummed a disbelieving sound that he took as an agreement, and they set off.
"So what is he, your beau or something?" Kane asked good naturedly.
"My fiancée, actually." Madeline responded. She was finding it harder and harder to remember that he was a criminal. He was so charming and polite.
So was Moriarty. She reminded herself, shivering at the thought. Kane immediately removed his jacket and threw it around her shoulders, surprising her and making her very grateful for the extra warmth.
"Sorry to pry, but are you sure you feel up to going back to your flat?" He asked, "I've known drunk guys to get a little violent." Madeline stopped for a second, then gave Kane what she hoped was a pleasant smile.
"Yeah, that's happened before." She lied, "To tell you the truth I'd rather stay away from the flat till morning when he's hungover, then go back and make a lot of noise." She and Kane laughed together, then kept walking in the soft snow.
"You know, you could crash at my flat for the night and then take a cab back to wherever you live." He offered charitably. Madeline caught her breath. Sherlock had told her to accept his offer when it came.
"He lives in Kensington." He'd told her when he was briefing her in 221B, "It'll be a lovely flat, and I'll be following the whole way." He'd said more, but she couldn't remember it all.
"You know what, that would be brilliant." Madeline answered, flashing Kane a smile. He gently looped her arm with his and guided her to the nearest Tube station. They got on and took the train east towards South Kensington. Madeline waited patiently as the train met its stops, but felt a small spike of panic when she and Kane didn't get off at the Kensington stop.
"I love Kensington Gardens." She said pointedly, "The Peter Pan statue is always one of my favorites." Kane smiled at her kindly.
"And what brought this conversation on?" He asked, Madeline nodded at the Kensington sign and he grinned.
"My favorite part of the gardens is the bike trails. I wish there were more, but what can you do?" He shrugged, and Madeline laughed with him to try and hide the anxiety making her heart speed up. They rode the Tube all the way to Cannon Street, and then got off. Madeline resisted the urge to call Sherlock and make sure he knew they hadn't gotten off at South Kensington; but didn't want to draw suspicion from Kane.
"Thinking about your fiancée?" He asked her, noticing her stressed look. Madeline blinked.
"Yeah, I hope he doesn't trash the flat again while I'm out." She said, a little proud for thinking on her feet, but more nervous about where Kane was taking her. He led her to a nice apartment building, then down the stairs to a flat that vaguely mimicked 221C and unlocked the door for her. Madeline stepped in ahead of him and heard the door click shut behind her. Her chest felt tight, and she immediately regretted agreeing to help Sherlock corner Kane. As nice as he seemed, it wasn't nice enough to ease her distress.
"What's wrong?" Kane asked her, "You look really panicked." Madeline decided to give up.
"I think I left our stove on! Oh my God, I hope the flat isn't up in flames…' She made to move to the door, but Kane stopped her by stepping in front of her and gently holding his hands up.
"It's okay, your fiancée can turn it off when he gets home." He said.
"But he'll destroy the place." Madeline whispered, trying to find excuses to leave.
"I don't think so. He seems more like a loud drunk thank a destructive one." Kane replied calmly.
"All the same, I want to go home and check on him." Madeline said, putting what she thought was a reasonable amount of force behind her words. Kane's smile faded, and he leaned against the door with his arms crossed. His face looked cold, a sudden change from the kindness he'd been showing earlier in the evening.
"I was wondering how stupid you thought I was." He said flatly, "To not recognize Sherlock Holmes when I see him? I mean come on, he even used his real name on the reservations list."
"What?" Madeline asked, trying to play dumb instead of giving anything away. Kane rolled his eyes.
"Really, come on. I'm not daft." He snapped, "He's taken a case and is trying to get me turned in to Scotland Yard, isn't he?"
"I don't- I don't know." Madeline answered truthfully, Sherlock had only told her vague details. She felt the panic in her chest expand when she remembered that Sherlock didn't know where she was. She'd been worried before when she was only a little intimidated by Kane; but with him blocking her only exit in a small anonymous flat her anxiety and fear doubled. She took a little relief in knowing the detective would keep looking for her, but felt her heart skip a beat when she thought about becoming his next murder case.
Kane stepped forward, and Madeline instinctively backed away. She knew better than to let a questionable character get too close- her experiences with Moriarty, Antonio, and Magnussen had made sure of that.
"I guess he wanted to use you as bait?" He said, "He probably knows my M.O., so he gave me a pretty lady in a dress." Madeline's ears were buzzing too loudly to acknowledge what Kane was saying.
"He's dangerous." Sherlock had said. He'd said something else before they'd left Baker Street, but she couldn't remember.
But how dangerous?
Kane stepped forward again, and Madeline bolted. He was blocking the front door, so she turned and sprinted farther into the flat and hoped there was a back exit. She turned down a small hallway off of the reception room, and panicked when it ended with a towel closet and branched off into three other rooms. She had enough time to try and open one of the rooms and find it locked before Kane caught up to her. He got incredibly close, backing Madeline into one of the other doors. She'd kept his jacket clutched in one of her hands when she'd darted away, and quickly threw it in his face as a distraction. He stepped back instinctively, and she ducked under his arm and ran back down the hallway.
"Help!" She shouted. She made it to the front door and tried to open it; but it was locked. She rushed to one of the nearby windows on ground level and tried to open it, only to find that it had been sealed shut. Kane attacked her from behind, smashing her head forward into the window sash and then pulling her backwards by her hair. Madeline was thoroughly stunned, and her world was a spinning kaleidoscope of stars and flashing lights. Her ears were ringing loudly, and her scalp stung. Kane hauled her back down the hallway and kicked open one of the doors that wasn't locked and threw her in. Then he followed and shut the door behind him. Madeline was able to push herself up and scramble to her feet as she tried to make sense of the new room.
She could see a twin-sized bed pushed against the wall but still protruding into the middle of the room and noted the four cuffs attached to each post of the bed. Her heartbeat kicked up again, and as Kane approached she sprang away from him and rolled to the other side of the bed. He started around the foot of the bed, but she made to spring to the other side again and he retreated back to his side of the room. She did the same.
Kane tried to lunge at her directly across the mattress, but she jumped to the side with a shriek and ran to the door. She was able to throw it open, and made it into the hallway before Kane's arm looped around her throat- the same one that had been around her waist not even an hour before- and pulled her back into the room. Madeline's eyes were watering, and she made a mental note to try and play dead if he tried to lift her. Kane tried to throw Madeline onto the bed, but missed and tossed her to the ground with a thud. She gasped at the sudden influx of air into her lungs, but choked again when she saw what Kane had picked up from somewhere in the room.
He had a knife.
She scrambled backwards on the ground until she hit the far wall, watching him slowly walk towards her with the knife in her hand. She vaguely remembered the knife Moriarty had used under Parliament and when he'd held her and John captive in a car park. The memory brought back even more waves of terror, and Madeline almost hoped that her adrenaline would stop her heart before Kane could. Something crashed, and she saw someone rush into the bedroom behind Kane. He spun and raised the knife, but it was quickly knocked from his hand as his legs were swiftly kicked out from underneath him. Sherlock kicked him viciously in the ribs and kept his gun trained on the man's forehead.
"Madeline! Are you alright?" He called over his shoulder.
"No." She said feebly, garnering her a concerned look from the detective as he quickly read her and scanned her for injuries. Her temple was bleeding and her throat was red; but she didn't seem to have any major injuries and Kane hadn't hurt her too badly. Sherlock stepped on Kane's chest and leaned forward slightly, putting most of his weight on the two ribs he'd just cracked in the man's side.
"The police will be here shortly." He spat, "Don't move." He stepped away from him and quickly turned to Madeline, who was sitting stunned against the far wall.
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" He asked, crouching down to her level. Madeline gestured to her head and neck wordlessly and Sherlock shook his head.
"No, he didn't hurt you, did he?" He asked more urgently. She blinked at him blankly, then remembered the piece of information she'd forgotten.
"He's been accused of multiple assault and rape cases." Sherlock said seriously. "Are you sure you want to assist in this case?" Madeline looked up from her book nonchalantly, pulling herself from her reverie.
"Yeah sure," She said, "Whatever you say."
"Oh… no. I'm fine." She said. "No really, I'm fine. He didn't touch me. I mean, like that." She elaborated when Sherlock gave her a distrustful look. She could hear the usual police sirens approaching and let her shoulders sag with relief. Sherlock pulled her to her feet and let her lean on his shoulder while she walked off her daze and headache. Kane was still on the ground, wheezing and clutching at his side as Sherlock escorted Madeline from the room.
"I was worried you wouldn't find us." Madeline told him. "When we didn't get off at Kensington I thought something was up." Sherlock's expression looked grim.
"I didn't leave you," He said. "Not for a moment. I was on the Tube a few carriages down from you, I would have seen you leave if you'd gotten off at Kensington. I'd also hypothesized that Kane would have a separate abode for his- activities." Sherlock made no attempt to hide the disgust and malice in his voice, and Madeline was too tired to respond.
Sherlock had her sit on the steps of the apartment building while he talked to Lestrade and his accompanying agents to explain the situation; and when he saw Madeline shivering in her dress he finally took off his coat and gave it to her.
