You're a Good Man, Henry Higgins: "The Things We Do For Love, Part 1," 15x01
"I said I can't!" He was hoping if he wrapped his hands in his coat, no one would notice their shaking. They hadn't stopped, not since Dorothy's cold reminder that only two people knew where Effie was…and neither of them were inclined to share that information.
He was surprised the Inspector had let him go so easily, moreso that Watts hadn't pulled rank and pressed him into the check on Jack Larkin. Thank God for small favors. He'd take any he could get at this point.
Dear Lord, George, what have you gotten yourself into? he wondered. He reminded himself that Effie needed him, and that he must focus.
"George?" Henry stopped him by the water cooler.
George's annoyance grew with every delay. It was a damned miracle that Dorothy and Amelia had let him go into the Station House on his own, let alone agreed to the errand in the first place. Clearly love dulls the senses. "What's wrong?" Henry pressed.
His best friend actually sounded concerned. Am I so out of sorts that even Henry can sense it? What if that mucks up the entire thing? If Amelia and Dorothy were to find out-
"I can't talk about it," he said evasively, hoping that would be the end of the inquisition.
He'd almost forgotten how stubborn Henry was. When he wanted to be. "Well, maybe I could help," Henry pressed. His brow was furrowed, his tone sincere.
You can't do this alone, George. With Detective Murdoch gone, Effie in danger…Effie. His heart nearly broke at the thought of her, God knew where, at the mercy of the deranged sister pair. What would the detective do? George wondered, fingers gripping the wool of his coat tighter. He thought of Eva Pearce. Of James Gillies. William Murdoch was a man of action. A man with…with a plan.
A germ of an idea began to grow. George paused. Then, he turned back to Henry. "Actually," he said, the germ becoming a seedling and starting to sprout, "maybe you could." Glancing around, eyes flickering to the front door, George grabbed Henry by the collar and yanked him into Detective Murdoch's office, closing both doors.
"George? What-"
George looked Henry dead in the eyes. "Henry," he said, using his given name. "Effie's been kidnapped."
"She what?" Henry's jaw dropped. "What…how…who?"
"Amelia Ernst."
George could see smoke coming from Henry's ears as he worked to process. "Amelia…the woman who kidnapped you?" he clarified, and George nodded. "But how-"
"It's a long story, Henry, please, shut up and listen!" George begged him. Henry's mouth snapped shut, though George could see the fire in his friend's eyes. Henry was selfish, lazy, and egotistical to a fault, but George knew that when it came to his friends and family, Henry was as loyal as they came. Thank you for that. Quickly, he gave Henry the rundown. "They're keeping Effie somewhere and refuse to tell me where. I need to keep playing their game until they tell me where she is."
"What do they want from you?" Henry asked him, crossing his arms over his chest.
George pinched the bridge of his nose. "They want me to marry Amelia," he explained.
"But you proposed to Effie!" Henry objected.
George barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Henry! I don't want to marry Amelia!" he exploded. He let out a breath. "But I need to make it look like I do. And that's where you come in." Quickly, eyes darting out to the bullpen, further still to the front entryway, he laid out his plan.
He looked at Henry expectantly. Henry was nodding emphatically. "Just tell me when and where," he promised George.
George breathed a sigh of relief, and clapped Henry on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Henry Higgins," he said sincerely.
It felt so wrong, George thought afterwards, kissing Amelia and listening to Henry pronounce them man and wife. He felt as though he needed to take a shower. That he'd betrayed Effie somehow, even with it all being a sham. As Amelia flaunted her newfound 'marriage' to her sister, George made a show of tipping their clergyman, pulling him off to the side. "Thank you, Henry," he whispered.
"Are you sure you don't want me to alert the lads?" Henry asked him. "I don't like the idea of you being alone with either of them. There's something…crazy, in their eyes. Both of them."
"I'll be all right. The charade needs to continue a bit longer," George told him. He sighed.
"George," Henry muttered, reaching for his friend's arm. George met his eyes above the strange beard. "Go get Effie back," he ordered him, then turned and walked hastily away. Pocketing the money George had given him, George noticed. You're a good man, Henry Higgins.
George closed his eyes, counted to three, then plastered a fake smile on for his new bride as he turned. "Shall we?" he asked, the queasy feeling in his stomach replaced by a deep-seated fire.
Go get Effie back. Oh, I most certainly intend to.