Halleluiah! The sixth part of my story! Ok, quick overview, I might as well give one. A future Holmes and Watson meet, they become best friends (near lovers, might I also add). Holmes has gotten poisoned, Watson shot at, and Watson was captured and interrogated over something Holmes gave her. He rescued her, only to find out that Marie Moriarty was her captor. He is shocked, and it is in this chapter we find out why, and what was exactly in those files Holmes gave Watson, and why they're so important. I don't own anything. And I swore some in this chapter. So, without further ado...

Chapter Six: Forces Separated

Holmes behavior baffled me. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He was extremely upset about Marie, even more than he would have been had she of just been an enemy. She must be something more, I decided. Then I remembered. Holmes' mother had been killed by her. Holmes thought she was living in America though....

The next day at school would prove to be most eventful, however.

Holmes avoided me all through morning classes, despite my very forceful attempts to get him to talk to me. Finally, during lunch, I cornered him.

"All right Holmes. What is up with you?" I asked as I sat down. He looked up from his tea quickly and set it down.

"Watson, had you have looked at all the things I have given you, you might of come up with a conclusion by now. It's all there. Just read, and use your eyes. Now, excuse me. Miss Ruipe would like to see me. Something about my essay on footprints," Holmes stated and rose from our table.

He perplexed me. He said I had everything I needed, but all he had given me was family files and his mother's necklace.

"Wait a minute..."

I ran home from school as fast as I possibly could. My mother was shocked as I ran past her and slammed the door to my room.

I flopped down and pulled out the files and necklace, which lay in my desk drawer. Curling up on my bed, I pulled out the first page of documents. It read as followed:

"Sherlock Robert Holmes was born on January 6th, 1854, seven years younger than his only brother, Mycroft Holmes. He was born to Violett Holmes and Richard Holmes. He had a troubled childhood, and his father disowned him when Sherlock decided to become a consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes met John Watson M.D. and had many adventures with him, all chronicled by faithful Watson,"

I knew this. I didn't want to read this. This was like general information and I didn't care for that. I flipped to the next page and found something's of interest. They read as followed:

"Sherlock Holmes fell in love but once, with a beautiful young lady named Irene Adler. Indeed, she had married, but as her husband had died recently, she sought for condolences. She received them from Sherlock and they had there first child on December 15th, 1892. They named him Robert Alan Holmes. Unfortunately, Holmes was called back into the living world (as pretending to be dead), and never witnessed the birth of his daughter, Rachel Lee Holmes. She was killed at the age of fourteen in a horrible hansom accident. Robert lived to formally meet his father many times, until Sherlock's death in 1932. Sherlock was 78, was shot while on a case, and died in a hospital only hours later, next to his son, wife, and grandchildren. The man who shot him was never found."

So that was what happened to Sherlock Holmes. It was a tragic story, actually. I decided to read up on Robert, but only briefly.

"Robert Holmes was only 40 when his father died, and was devastated. His twin children, Rebecca and Brian Holmes were shocked and dismayed at there grandfathers quick departure from the world, and Irene Adler ended up killing herself on July 7th, 1933. Robert lived to be 76 before dying with his wife on there way to the United States. There plane crashed."

Ouch. The Holmes history was not turning out to be a good one. I flipped to the next page and saw a combination of both Rebecca and Brian.

"Rebecca and Brian Holmes were married early on in there life, Rebecca to a peasant named Joseph McCaulender, a jolly Irishman. She drowned when she was but forty four, and never had any children. Brian Holmes married a beautiful woman named Serephina Vernum. She was Latin, and had a very exotic touch to her. She bore him one son, whom they named Charles Daniel Holmes. Brian and Serephina lived to be 80, before dying of leukemia and polio."

"Well, at least they weren't killed" I reflected. Flipping the page, I saw a picture of Brian, Rebecca and Serephina. Rebecca and Serephina were both beauties, and Brian Holmes was very handsome. I turned the page to read of Charles Holmes, who was Holmes' grandfather.

"Charles Daniel Holmes was a kind, compassionate man who wrote poetry for a living. He never raised his voice, nor ever struck someone. Charles married the widow Samantha Fowler, who was 30. He was 26. They gave birth to two children, Franklin Ryan Holmes and his younger sister, Mary Jessica Holmes. Charles and Samantha died in a car accident in 1962. Franklin was an impenitent young man, ruthless and heartless, the exact opposite of his beautiful sister Mary. Mary was a shy and gentle young woman. Franklin was very jealous of his sister, and condemned her to a life in hell by driving her insane when she was 22. She spent the rest of her life in a mental asylum, and is still there to this day. Franklin went against his families desires when he turned 25, by marrying a young woman that the family had serious doubts about. Her name was Marie Moriarty."

I stopped and stared at the firm writing on the page in horror. This was the secret Holmes had kept from me? Oh, I could tell why. His own mother, my captor? It was to horrible to think about. I couldn't think it to be true. I decided to finish the writing, which lasted only one more page.

"Marie proved to be a very capable and benevolent woman. Her beauty surpassed all the other woman's, and she sung at an opera house. Franklin fell in love with her, and they married. She gave birth to two children, the oldest a female named Irene Rachel Holmes, after her husbands ancestors. She named her son Sherlock Samuel Holmes, after Sherlock Holmes himself. Alas, disaster struck the family. Marie was horribly disfigured in a car accident, continuing the families horrible luck. She left the family because her husband could not bear to look at her. Irene herself disappeared, apparently leaving England all together. She was never found. Franklin turned into a hateful, bitter man, who despises his son."

That was the last the papers said. I couldn't bear to think of Marie my captor though. She was cruel and insane. Holmes wasn't like that. I decided that the papers lied.

"They have to," I said aloud, "Even Franklin wouldn't dare marry a Moriarty." I picked up the necklace Holmes had given me. It was beautiful, with a gleaming sapphire set in silver, surrounded by ten diamonds. I flipped it over to the back and dropped it in surprise. There, on the silver, lay my friends mothers initials.

M.M.

I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Why hadn't Holmes told me? Did he think I would hate him? I jumped from my bed and began pacing restlessly around my room. It was after midnight, and I hadn't even bothered to call Holmes and yell at him for not telling me.

"Excuse me, Watson, if you don't mind, could you please help me in?" came a gentle and quiet voice. Stiffening a scream in my throat and turned to yell at Holmes. The words died in my throat.

Holmes had been beaten up, and badly from the looks of it. He had a cut running down his cheek, and his normally clean clothes were splattered in mud and-was that blood? I pulled him in through my window.

"Holmes, what in the world happened?" I hissed. He smiled and ruefully wiped some blood of his cheek.

"Jeffrey. The little louse jumped me. He had a knife on him," he said. I gaped at him and sat him down on my bed.

"Why didn't you go home? Did you fight back? What happened? Where are you hurt?" I rattled. He laughed softly.

"I didn't go home because father locked my window from the inside. Besides, he wouldn't understand. Yes, I fought back and gave him a thorough trouncing, after I realized I wasn't just distracting him. I was walking home after searching for something at your prison. He was drunk, I think, and couldn't recognize me. Either that, or he didn't choose to recognize me. Either way, he got the worst of it, and will be regretting the day he crossed my path. As for where I'm hurt, I'm not sure," he said, answering my questions in rapid succession. I looked into his eyes and sighed.

"Take off your shirt. I think he got a deep cut across your chest," I explained as he had the appearance of a person who had just been asked to stick his head into an untrained lions head.

"I don't believe I should," he finally replied, after covering his look of dismay.

"Oh, just shut up and take it off!" I whispered furiously. Fortunately, he knew better than to deal with a woman's anger, and unbuttoned his shirt quickly.

I was shocked at the asymmetrical cuts that ran down his back and chest (after I got over seeing him without his shirt. Yep, I definitely had a crush on him). They were long and irregular, with mud in some, and just clean cuts on another. Holmes sat obediently still as I ran a hand over the cuts.

"Oh gosh Holmes. This is horrible. What kind of knife did he have?" I asked. He shuddered.

"A hunting knife, I believe. Deadly sharp," he said, his voice cold. I stood and pulled a first aid kit out of my closet.

"Sit still while I put this peroxide on you. It may sting a bit," I gently said. He nodded, but tensed as the burning sensation touched him.

"Remind me if I get hurt to come to you. You're a very good nurse," he said between clenched teeth as I prodded the cuts to see how deep they ran.

"Doctor," I corrected absently.

"What was that?"

"I want to be a doctor, not a nurse."

"Oh."

The next few minutes were filled with silence, except for the occasional sharp intake of breath and the quick 'Sorry' that followed it. Finally, after about ten minutes, the cuts were cleaned. At least, those on his back and chest.

"Now what are we going to do about that face one?" I asked him. He shrugged. I grabbed his chin with my hand and tilted it toward the light as to see better.

"It's not that deep, thank heavens. You might end up with a scar but it won't be that noticeable," I told him. His cold hand reached out and held mine to his face for a minute. Finally I pulled away.

"I'll be right back. I want to get some milder peroxide for your face. Change into the pajama's you left here last time if you want. You're spending the night," I said, standing.

I walked down to the bathroom and pulled out the mild peroxide. I glanced at myself in the mirror. I could still feel Holmes' hand against mine.

"Stop it Jenny. He's your patient right now. Doctors don't have relationships with there patients" a nagging voice in my head said.

"Yeah, but we were friends first. Is it wrong to love the person you're only now treating?" the logical part of me said. I quickly shook the thoughts from my head and went to go aid my friend.

Holmes hadn't changed into his pajamas. He was holding the necklace he had given me (which I had left on the floor). He looked up as I entered the room. Holmes smiled sadly.

"So, you figured it out, did you?" he whispered, pain ringing in his voice. I looked down.

"Well, yes. But I'm not angry! Just sad you didn't tell me," I said, pushing on his shoulders so I could see his face properly. He finally sat down and looked up at me.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't," he responded simply. I shrugged.

"What's done is done. No use living in the past," I said, applying the peroxide to his face. He stared at me.

"What?" I asked, putting the cap on the bottle. He stood quickly and cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. Shocked, I almost took a step back. The kiss was light and didn't last long, but in it bespoke a passion which rarely radiated off Holmes. Our kiss broke after only a few seconds, but it left me breathless.

"Whoa," I said, when I finally found my voice. Holmes blushed and looked at the ground.

"Whoa," I repeated, but this time he looked at me.

"Whoa, I liked that," I said after another pause. Holmes smiled shyly. I pulled him into a hug, careful of his back.

"Thanks Holmes. I really liked that," I whispered. I could feel him smile.

"Think of it as an early birthday present, for both of us," he murmured. I smiled up at him and pulled him onto the bed. He sat down at my side and looked at me.

"Now, as for the case. I found some very interesting things about my mo-Marie. She doesn't have much of a record, but I have reason to believe that she does in fact lead half of the crime in this city. I spoke to Danny again, then turned to my good friend, Raze. She gave me much to work with," he said. I frowned.

"Raze?" I asked. He smiled.

"I don't believe you've met the Baker Street Irregulars yet, have you? You'll meet them tomorrow, I promise. She is the leader of one of the small gangs. Her gang consists of her, Thomas, 'Livia, Jimmy, Lanta and Roberto. Nice kids," he said thoughtfully. I nodded.

"What'd she tell you?" I asked. He sighed.

"There was a murder, about two months before you arrived. Two young men murdered. The man whom I suspected did it never confessed, but Raze heard him talking about it a couple of nights ago. She said that he was saying how 'his boss, Marie, was quite pleased at how he didn't get caught, and if he kept it up he would get promoted to her third-in-command'. I told Raze I wanted to know who her second in command was, and she said she'd send Thomas on it," he said. I lay down at full length on my bed.

"Did we get anything substantial enough to lead us to where she is?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Not yet. Tomorrow we'll be out with Raze, Jimmy and Thomas. They're the best, and we'll probably find enough from them to last us a few days of bafflement. But for now I suggest you go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Holmes said, standing. I grabbed onto his hand.

"Stay, at least until I fall asleep," I said. He sighed.

"All right. But you'd better fall asleep quickly," he said. But he had hardly said it before I was asleep.

I groaned and rolled over, to see a peacefully sleeping Holmes laying down next to me. I smiled at him. I was surprised he had fallen asleep next to me, because he seemed pretty irritated that I had asked him to stay.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!!" came a yelling voice. I leapt from my bed and Holmes started to full awareness. My mothers enraged face awaited us.

"Oh, God, mom, it's not what you think!" I said quickly. She whirled around at me.

"You had SEX!" she screamed. I pulled away from her.

"Ewww. No way mom! I'm only fifteen!" I said, appalled. Holmes stared at her, fear in his face. My mom turned to him.

"AND YOU YOUNG MAN! What did you do? Force her to bed with you!" my mother shrieked. Holmes backed away.

"Never, Mrs. Watson. I have utter respect for your daughter, and would never do that to her," he answered. She stared at him, then turned to me.

"So, you went along WILLINGLY!" she yelled again. I screamed back at her this time, forgetting to try to stay calm.

"WE DID NOT HAVE SEX! PLEASE MOM, I HAVE MORE SENSE THAN THAT!" I yelled. My mother blew up at that.

"SHUT UP! Mr. Holmes, I suggest you stop seeing my daughter. In fact, if you come near my daughter again, I'll have to inform the police. Get out of here," she said, her voice cold and mean. Holmes stared at her.

"Didn't you hear me? GET OUT!" she screamed. Holmes ran out of the house as fast as he could. As soon as he had left my mother turned to me.

"Oh, Jennifer. I thought you were smart. Until I see some responsibility shown, you're grounded," she said. I looked at her.

"When can I see Holmes again?" I asked. She glared at me.

"Never. Never again will I let you see him. You're little forces are separated."

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I walked to school that day full of despondency and consternation. I muttered under my breath multiple curses at my mother when someone stopped me with a gently sardonic voice.

"I don't think your mother would like what you're saying about her," Holmes said, materializing from the shade of a tree. I frowned.

"I can't see you, remember. But forget my mother. I'll swear at her all I want," I said angrily. He walked along side me in silence.

"Did you really expect me to stop seeing you?" he asked suddenly, cracking the fragile silence between us. I shrugged.

"I wasn't sure. I hoped you wouldn't," I responded. He smiled and hugged me.