Weeks passed by and getting used to the 19th century was easier every day. My adaptation process was fairly quick, and being rich (again thanks to inflation) helped a lot. Mrs. Hudson offered to cook for me since my first day at Baker Street. I told her it was not necessary, she had enough as it was, but since she already cooked for Mr. Holmes and herself, she insisted. Every morning I dressed (sometimes requiring Mrs. Hudson's assistance) and go to a close market to buy some fresh fruit for Bobo (my monkey) and myself. By now most people got used to the sight of Bobo. Kids called me ''the monkey woman'', and I let them pet and feed him. Right now I was baking some sweets. I did it sometimes for Mrs. Hudson as a thank you. The first time I did it, she saved some of the sweets for Mr. Holmes, and served them to him with tea. Apparently, he looked at them with murder in his eyes and told her to take ''the witch's death traps'' with her. She ignored him, as she usually did. Later, when she returned to clean the tray there was nothing left on it, not even the crumbs. You could think he fed the sweets to Gladstone, but that was not the case. For days after my arrival the bulldog barreled his way into my flat, running from the madman upstairs. I was now the proud owner of a squirrel monkey and a bulldog. They were now napping on the couch while I finished the pastries. Looking at them so nonchalant reminded me again of my own carefree attitude. I renewed 221C like I was settling for life. For the living room and kitchen area I mostly kept thing the way they were, I just added little touches and cleaned up. The bedroom and bathroom were another matter entirely… I changed both completely. In the bedroom I added mirrors to the headboard, white furniture and a new wallpaper. I threw in a makeup zone opposite to the bed to complete the room. And the bathroom? It was heavenly now, let me tell you. This is where I really did my homework back in 2015. I am no cleanliness freak, but I wanted to know my options in personal hygiene. So now I had a porcelain enameled cast-iron bathtub that I used every day. I put some drapes around it and a little table with a mirror at the end. A chair, a rug, a big mirror, a new faucet and a cabinet. All in white, as the bedroom. The place wasn't big and the white gave it a nice relaxing feeling. But my favorite part was the backyard. It was case-hardened, yet it fulfilled its purpose. I have a hobby called bonsais, and now I had the place full with young oaks, maples, elms, beeches and birches I was trimming and wiring in an effort to make little wonders in a pot out of them.

Once the pastries were ready I put them on a tray and headed for the common kitchen, but I was stopped by Mrs. Hudson. She was in the hall talking with a beautiful couple.

- Bedelia, dear! Come meet Dr. Watson and his fiancée-. She said.

I made my way to them, pastries still on my hands. They were lookers, the both of them. She had an elegant beauty, her dark blonde hair put up in a bun, hidden under a headdress. Dr. Watson was a very handsome man too. And he cleaned up nice. The moustache suited him. They cared for their appearance, clearly, unlike their friend upstairs.

- Dr. Watson, nice to meet you finally -. I smiled his direction. - And you must be Mary -. Mrs. Hudson talked about them with fondness.

- Will you join us for tea, dear? – Asked me Mrs. Hudson-. Come, let's taste those pastries.

- I'll join you in a few minutes, ladies-. Dr. Watson said with a last exasperated look to his fiancée. Then up he went, to deal with the detective's moods.

We were drinking our second tea cups when Dr. Watson came into the kitchen. He was up there for quite a long time, and now he looked exhausted. The Sherlock Holmes effect, Mrs. Hudson wore the same tired expression after dealing with him.

- Well, at least he's not shooting the walls-. He said.

- My first week here he shot the floor. I have the holes in my ceiling to prove it-. I stated as a matter of fact before sipping my tea.

- Oh my God! – Mary exclaimed in a whisper. Dr. Watson was sitting next to her regarding me with a livid face-. What did you do?

- I picked up the bullets and framed them. They preside my living room now, just over the fireplace -. I smiled to myself, picturing the frame with my name's initials made of bullets. Yes, he shot my initials on his floor. I was outside wiring my last oak when I heard the gunshots. They surprised me at first, I ran inside fearing the worst, until I saw a bullet piercing my ceiling. I relaxed then, it was just one of Holmes' shenanigans. I made my way toward the war zone in my living room, just keeping a safe distance. Imaging the surprise on my face when the dots started making sense. ''B.O''. He took his time between shots, and I just waited patiently for them, never taking my eyes from the ceiling. It was almost an intimate moment between the two.

- He could have hurt you -. Dr. Watson said in a scolding manner.

- Tell me, Doctor – I put my tea cup on the table-, is Mr. Holmes someone prone to act without thinking?

- No, he is not, but I wouldn't put my hand in the fire for him when he is in a mood and- he stopped abruptly, clearly not wanting to discuss his friend's issues with a stranger. I could appreciate that kind of loyalty.

- High on cocaine? I was outside when it started, he knew I was outside, he can see me from his windows.

- Why do you defend him? – Asked me Mary.

- I'm not defending him, I'm stating the facts as they were. Let the facts speak for themselves.

- He would like you if he weren't manic at the moment -. Dr. Watson spoke between sips.

- Speak of the devil… - Mrs. Hudson muttered in time for us to see Sherlock Holmes walking through the kitchen's door.

- … and he shall appear! – He finished for her-. There must be a cup of tea for me somewhere in here, nanny. Find it.

The poor woman stood from her chair and went in search of the tableware necessary for Mr. Holmes. He took the opportunity to sit down on her vacant chair next to me.

- So… -. Watson tried to fill the tense silence-. Mrs. Hudson tells us you sing beautifully-. Ok, now I was turning red. The thing I missed most was my mp3, and sometimes I sang to myself to fill the void of music. I usually did it while cleaning, cooking, gardening… You know, stuff that takes quite the time.

- Annoyingly, if you ask me -. Mr. Holmes put his two cents while eating one of my poisonous pastries.

- Nobody asked you -. The doctor scolded him. He would be a good father, he had the experience.

- Don't let her fool you with her… exquisite treats –he said holding a biscuit between his fingers and looking at it intensely-. She is a harpy-. He finished biting on it.

- Holmes!

- Oh, I am a harpy, and you have my name's initials on your flat's floor. How does that feel, Mr. Holmes? Does it burn? – I breathed scathingly into his ear. He was here talking about me like I wasn't in the same room. He hadn't looked at me since the day we met. Even now he didn't have the decency to turn his head towards me.

- You have a monkey! –He said childishly. Like that was insult. Well, at least he was addressing me now, even if his eyes were still on the table.

- And you have a goat, and a snake.

- She stole Gladstone! – He told his friend.

- I didn't steal him. He decided on his free will he was safer in my flat. Can you blame him? – I asked the doctor.

- No, I can't. Poor Gladstone could use some holidays.

- It's settled then! He stays with me. Shall we go, Mary? – I still had to buy underwear and Mary was coming with me. We stood and she said her goodbyes to her fiancé. I waited for her at the door, my eyes wandered to Sherlock Holmes' form. He was there looking to nothing, savoring another biscuit with an intense expression on his face. He was trying to figure out the secret ingredient in my ginger and cinnamon sweets, I could tell.

- Nutmeg-. I said aloud. Everyone turned their heads towards me not understanding. Except for him. He understood alright, and he was looking into my eyes.


Here I was again, trying on some bras, and bustiers, and corsets, and tights, and breeches. And I hated every moment. Mainly because it meant I had to take off my clothes and then put them on again, and it was an excruciating process.

- You have a beautiful body, if I may be so bold -. Mary said helping me fasten the suspenders-. Do you exercise?

- Yes, I do -. The only sport I practiced was parkour and yoga, for the rest I was a lazy ass. I mean, I am not into running or doing crunches. I just did what I had to do in order to get my job done and survive while at it.

- Why? It's not common for women to exercise. Some people may even consider it improper, a men's thing.

- Well, there are bad men, bad men waiting to do bad things to defenseless women. How is it improper for me to be ready for them? I just prefer to be ahead of the curve.

- Makes sense… You look ravishing in these garments.

- It's too much. I mean, why bother with something other than plain and boring? It's not like someone's going to see it -. She insisted too in buying some fancy stuff ''just in case'', as Mrs. Hudson did.

-Don't you have any suitors? A love interest of your own?

- No, nothing.

- Well, you are a beautiful interesting woman. You'll have suitors in the city soon enough-. I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. If only she knew I was leaving sooner than later…

- How old are you? Don't you want to marry? To have a family?

- I'm 25. Family, yes, it sounds good, I like the idea of being a mother. But marriage, I don't think that'll ever happen.

- Why not?

- I'm too independent. I make my own decisions, and I need to have my own space. I don't think many men would marry a woman who speaks her mind and wouldn't share their bed every night -. Not in this era, at least.

- You would do a perfect Mrs. Holmes -. She said hiding her smile.

- Yes – I laughed heartily at the notion-, yes maybe in the theory. But in my experience theory and practice not always agree with each other.

- You're still buying this-. She said with finality.

When we returned to 221B later the place was silent as the grave. Strong noises could be heard coming from the kitchen. Pots against pots, like someone was just too angry to give a damn if they broke something. Mary and I looked to each other wondering what the hell was going on. We made our way towards the noises to see Mrs. Hudson tiding up the room with a vengeance.

- Mrs. Hudson? – I made the woman aware of our presence.

- Oh, you are here already? – She said startled.

- What is wrong?

- Nothing to worry you about. Don't mind me-. She was convincing nobody. Something had angered, clearly-. It's just that Irene Adler woman. She was here before. She walked in here the moment you too went out, anyone would think she was waiting outside the perfect moment to come in and hassle Mr. Holmes. I don't like, she's trouble.

Yes she was. Not for the thieving part, but because of the Moriarty minion one. I could relate with Mrs. Hudson in this. I knew what the Napoleon of crime was capable of, and everyone who aided him was in my black list. But I guessed I'd have to deal with her presence from time to time. She bested Holmes at his own game, and for that he regarded her as ''The Woman''. Not that I cloud blame him, I was usually attracted to brains and wits too.

- Oh, you had a visit too. A French young man… Mr. Gaillard. He is waiting for you in your flat.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was here. After weeks of silence. In all this time I hadn't heard a word from anyone, nor Alistair's guild, much less from my own companions. I said my goodbyes, thanked Mary again for her help and run to my flat. The door was ajar, light coming out from inside. I pushed the door all the way in and there he was, sitting splay-legged on one of my couches, all properly dressed in 19th century clothes and smoking from a pipe.

- You know said turning to me-, I kind of like this-. He finished holding up the pipe to me. I couldn't help myself and ran squealing hurling myself to him-. Easy, woman! Your landlady will think us betrothed.

- What news from the Mark?

- A day may come when you stop using Lord of the Rings quotes, but it is not this day. Listen, we have reasons to think they know what we are doing, so we may have to close the portal until further notice. They allowed me in to warn you… and to bring something to cheer you up. Go look in your bedroom.

I ran to my room, not really worrying about the news. Trust was fundamental in this line of work. You need to trust the rest of the team knows what they're doing. News come when the time is right. Patience was just as important as the fighting skills. Yes, there was a parcel on my footboard. Yet the first thing to catch my attention was the delicate perfume smell. Odd, I didn't use perfume. The less distinctive traits you have when working undercover, the better. I opened my present quickly to find my tactile mp3 and portable speakers with a lot of spare headphones and solar chargers. I loved this man for a reason. I was about to exit the room to thank him when something red caught my sight. A red rose next to the parcel. I picked it up and went to the living room.

- Ouch! – I complained when I punctured my finger with the thorns-. My music and a rose.

- The flower was there when I arrived. Admirers already?

I frowned at the rose in my hand put my bloody finger into my mouth. Immediately my eyes opened wide and my heart started racing. I could recognize that flavor anywhere. Curare.

- Elia? -. Jerome was regarding me with concern now.

- Curare-. Was all I managed before feeling my knees gave out under me.

He ran to me, taking me by the waist before I could hit the floor. His other hand went behind my knees, picking me up against his chest.

- Mrs. Hudson! –I heard him yelling. My body too weakened by the poison to be of any help-. Mrs. Hudson!

I heard two pair of heeled feet made their way to my front door. Mary was still here, judging by her OhmyGods and her John! John!'s.

- Mrs. Hudson, go get Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes. NOW! -. Jerome ordered the landlady while lying me gently onto the rug. I saw him take out a blade from his pocket and cut through my dress and corset, lifting my arms, shoulders and hips to remove the clothes from me-. Don't worry, Elia. I know what to do. We will perform artificial respiration on you until the curare is out of your system-. I knew it was the only way. Keeping the victim breathing artificially, but depending on the dose it could be hours before the poison would relent.

John Watson ran into the flat, getting in doctor mode the very moment he saw me lying on the floor.

- What happened? – He asked kneeling beside me and taking my pulse.

- She punctured her finger with a red rose smeared in curare -. I couldn't see him anymore, my body was now almost totally paralyzed and I was facing the other way, where I could see Mrs. Hudson and Mary holding hands. And Mr. Holmes. Holmes… Suddenly it all made sense in my head. Jerome said the bad guys knew about our little plans. She was one of Moriarty's minions. She was here. She came when I left. That smell in my room…

- Adler -. I breathed out with my last strength.

- Where was the rose? -. He asked not taking his eyes from me.

- In her room-. Mr. Holmes disappeared from my view to appear again moments later.

- Adler? - Watson asked him.

- Adler indeed-. He answered.

- She isn't moving her eyes anymore –Jerome told them-. We need to keep her breathing as long as necessary.

- Bring her upstairs, I have the tools for mechanical ventilation. Burn that flower, Watson.

I felt myself being lifted up and carried around. I started choking then, the air failing me. Everything was a blur, they were rushing now, but I couldn't really look around and see what was happening.

-Put her on the bed, quick. Here, doctor, do your thing – Holmes ordered around and took my face between his hands twisting my neck to look me in the eyes-. I'm going to hold you while the good doctor puts the tube down your throat. Try to relax. We have this-. I could have hug that bastard that very moment. When you are fucking paralyzed it means the world that someone takes the time to treat you as you are something more than a potato sack.

-This will be uncomfortable, but it'll be over soon -. I was now facing upwards into Watsons face.

I could feel Holmes' calloused hands holding my head still and opening my mouth. Let me tell you, a tube down your throat is nasty even when you can't actually gag. It scratched and was painful and alien. But it ended soon, as promised.

- It's in. The bag, Holmes-. I saw him fasten the bag to the end of the tube and then compress it with both hands. I felt instant relief.

- It worked, her chest moves-. Now that I could breathe and concentrate on other things I could feel a hand on mine. Jerome's.

- Is she going to be fine? How long do you have to keep doing this? - Mary.

-Minutes, hours… We can't possibly know. We will take turn. But she will be fine-. Watson assured her-. Go home, love. I anticipate a very long night.

That was the last thing I heard for a few minutes. I still found very unpleasant the fact that I couldn't move at all.

- Why would she try to murder your new neighbor? – Asked Watson finally.

- I can't possibly know, I don't really know anything about the woman-. Holmes quipped.

- Are you talking about Miss Adler or Miss O'Donoghue?

- Both.

- Why do you even keep in touch with her? She is bad news, you have an innocent woman lying paralyzed in your bed to prove it.

- I don't keep in touch. She just shows up. I put an end to our association last year when I left her handcuffed to that bridge for Scotland Yard to find. You should be asking this young man, not me. Tell us, who are you to Miss O'Donoghue? What are you doing here? What were does devices in her bedroom? Did you bring them? Why would someone try to kill her, aside from her impertinence? - The nerve of this man…

- My name is Jerome, I'm a friend, and I don't think Elia appreciates us talking about her as if she wasn't here. You'll have to wait for your answers.

- You are boring – Holmes said in a childish manner.

- I'm not here to amuse you, Mr. Holmes.

-Why are you here?

- To visit a friend.

- Why would you befriend the likes of her? - I was so punching him when I could…

- She bakes like heaven- Jerome quipped with mirth.

And that was it. The conversation was apparently over again. I could hear the air being compressed into the bag every few seconds, and the seconds ticking by in a near clock.

- I can concede you that-. Holmes broke the silence answering Jerome's last statement, and I could see Watson's lips twitching upwards. When this whole ordeal passed I'd have to bake some 'thank you treats', apparently.