Ahhh, the relief's and sadness of approaching the final chapters! This is, sad to say, third to last chapter. I hope you've all enjoyed this at least to a fraction of how you liked "Darker Days". Indeed, this one was much harder to write. Sequels are almost always harder to write, as the author always wishes to top the original. Alas, that is hard at times. To continue, I crave ideas. I am very much at the reviewers disposal, and I shall work with whatever suggestions befall me. You may tell me what to write, and I may very well do it as the idea pleases me. Please e-mail with your ideas, as I desperately want them. I would love for everyone of my faithful reviewers to send in suggestions, and even the scattered reviewer to send one in. My e-mail address is kep05@excite.com Once again, title the letter "Ideas" as I will delete it otherwise. Enjoy the next chapter!
Chapter Nine: The Bridge of Death
"Yes, it is I," the sneering male said. I did not recognize him. But Holmes did, I could tell by the way he was bristling. I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Holmes, who is he?" I asked. The boy laughed.
"How am I, she asks! I am Berkley Josephs younger brother, Robert Josephs. However, you will not know me. But you might recognize me as Irene's ex-boyfriend. I broke up with her the day she ran away! But a month since my dear brothers hasty departure from this world!" laughed the boy. He was insane, driven by the thought of revenge! Holmes stepped forward.
"Please Robert. Leave Irene alone," pleaded Holmes. Irene lay at Roberts feet, bound and gagged, wearing a black gown and atrocious black lipstick.
"Ah, darling Sherlock. You were but ten when I last saw you. How you've grown," Robert taunted. Holmes glared at him and took another step forward.
"Robert... why are you doing this?" he asked vigilantly. Robert whipped around and stared out at the water.
"Those girls killed my brother. She was one of them," spat Robert. Irene screamed through her gag and stared at me, her eyes round.
"You know that isn't true. Marie Moriarty killed him," Holmes answered. Robert laughed again. It was a horrible sound.
"Yes, but she was not known as Marie Moriarty then, was she? No, then she was Marie Holmes. Your own Mother, Sherlock! What a startling turn of events it must have been when you found out your Mother was the leader of crime in this horrendous city. Have you killed her yet? We all know that the Holmes family was always bent on justice. So, have you murdered her? Left her body for dead on the steps of an honest establishment?" Robert goaded him. Holmes took a deep breath before continuing.
"Robert, word play does not suit you. I remember you quite well. Always insulting people. Cruel, demeaning, ugly, just as your horrible brother was. Tis a pity he couldn't be here to see such a duel," Holmes retorted. Robert scowled, then changed the subject.
"Your young mistress doesn't speak. You've trained her well, Sherlock," Robert told him. Holmes raised an amused eyebrow.
"Train Watson? You obviously haven't met her. She's as un-trainable as a coyote! And, she isn't my mistress," replied Holmes. Robert walked over towards me and laid a rough, calloused hand on my cheek. I shuddered at the closeness of him. The only person to ever touch me on the face, which was a sign of familiarity, was Holmes.
"Such a pretty young thing. Shame she wasn't part of the Moonscape club. I would have greatly enjoyed to see her go off the bridge. I can imagine her screams..." Robert trailed off. I pulled myself roughly from his grasp.
"You're demented, sir. I am very sorry for your brother, but does that give you the right to murder young girls?" I demanded. Robert cackled.
"So fiery! So full of life! I understand why you like her." Robert turned from me and picked up Irene.
"She was wonderful too. Not nearly as fiery as Miss Watson, perhaps, but dreamy. Irresistible. Unattainable. Perfect, dainty, and beautiful. She was also a murderer. I wish to torture her as Marie Holmes did to my brother. Cut lovely formations into her face, and make you watch. Watch as her blood flows from her body and into the river. She is my final, my last, and I wish to make her suffer as did my brother. Poor Berkley. He was so deformed when they found his body. As will Miss Holmes here," Robert cooed, running one long finger down her throat. Holmes growled.
"Robert, if you hurt my sister in anyway, I'll kill you," Holmes snarled. Robert smiled.
"Threats to not become you, Sherlock. Your sister is fine for now. I am quite willing to make a trade, however." Holmes looked at him anxiously.
"What is the trade?" he asked guardedly. Robert grinned.
"If you give me Miss Watson or yourself, I'll give Miss Holmes back," Robert bargained. Holmes took a tentative step forward, preparing to give himself. Irene started shrieking and howling from behind the gag, and I reached forward and grabbed Holmes.
"No deal," I shouted. Robert shrugged.
"Well, that means your torture will have to be drawn out longer. I have a pattern, you see. At a quarter past two Miss Holmes will plunge deep into the fast rivers of the Thames, and be swept away. And I will laugh as Mr. Holmes here collapses with pain and sadness. And you, of course, will try to ease it. That is when I'll take my leave, not giving any clues as to where I'll go. I will leave, and Miss Holmes will die without being avenged. And I will laugh until I die, remembering the look on your faces, and especially Miss Holmes. The victory behind it all!" Robert cried. Holmes dragged his hand over his face.
"How did you do it, Robert? Get all those girls to follow you?" Holmes asked. I saw what he was doing instantly. He was making time for Irene. Robert smiled.
"Haven't figured it out yet, Sherlock?" Robert asked. Holmes sighed.
"I didn't solve the case at all. You solved the case for me. By taking Irene, one of the few people I would notice gone, you played right into my hands. Of course, you left enough clues for me to follow you to the Moonscape club. But when you took Irene, I knew where you would go. Always the same place, Robert. Always. But how did the girls follow you?"
"Simple, really. Those girls were so suspicious, I could have gotten them to do anything. I would stand outside there window at night and whisper things. I told them that the bridge had an excellent view of the stars, and that at night, the stars came down and danced with you. They followed, and happily. There I would knock them unconscious and change them into more formidable death clothes, all of them being killed in a different color dress. I buried their clothes under the bridge, then gave them their beautiful death faces. I took them up to the bridge, let them say goodbye to the stars, then pushed them. They screamed as they fell, Sherlock. I can still hear the screams in my head. They were fun to listen to. Irene's here will be quite similar, I suppose. Lets find out, shall we?"
At this, Robert pulled out a small knife. Holmes started forward, but Irene stared at him, and in her eyes I could see she was telling him not to. Robert held the knife with morbid fascination and curiosity.
"So small, and yet so deadly. Lets start with her perfect wrists. A moon, shall it be? A crescent moon, yes. So perfect and so ironic," Robert mused. Holmes was staring at Irene as Robert lifted her into his arms. He took one of her pale wrists into his hands and kissed the fingertips. Then, putting the knife against her skin, he carved the shape of a crescent moon into it. Irene screamed, a dreadful sound to hear. Holmes was shaking with rage now, but Irene wouldn't permit him to come near. Robert took some of the blood into his hands and licked it off his fingertips. I quaked horribly. Robert looked at the remaining blood in his hands, then tossed on to Holmes.
"Something to remember your sister with," Robert chortled. Holmes hands balled into fists, and he looked ticked. Irene was crying at Roberts feet.
"I'm so sorry that the blood won't come out. Since the Holmes family is so cold blooded, you're probably more concerned with the shirt, yes? Your sister doesn't matter anymore. A dead client, that is all? The famous Holmes family, so full of deceit and cruelness. People think you are so good, so kind. You're just a arse like the rest of your family. But, now the taunting must end. Quarter past two, my good man. Say goodbye to your wretch of a sister. A whore, that is all she ever-"
Holmes leapt forward and pulled Irene out of his arms, knocking the blade into his arm. Robert screamed and attacked Holmes.
Irene fell into my arms and I pulled her out of the way of the combatants. She looked fine, other than the cut on her arm. I turned my attention to Holmes and Robert as they fought.
Robert had quickly gained the upper hand, and he still had the knife. He had pinned Holmes to the ground in the few seconds that I had used to unbind Irene, and held the knife to his neck. Holmes was straining to keep Robert from killing him, but it wasn't doing any good. The knife continued to inch closer and closer, but something distracted Robert suddenly, and Holmes jumped up from the ground and knocked Robert down. Robert was not to be kept down, though. He jumped up almost immediately and thrust his little knife towards Holmes. Holmes parried it expertly and then rushed Robert. They were on the edge of the bridge now, along the rail. Holmes punched Robert in the face, and Robert retaliated by hitting Holmes with the knife. I gasped and feared that Holmes had been horribly injured, but I could not tell in the eerie moonlight. Irene was crawling towards them slowly. I tried to grab her back, but I missed her.
Meanwhile, Holmes had lost what little power he had left. He was fighting a nineteen year old, for heavens sake! Why he thought he could do battle with Robert I wasn't sure. A crack of lightening suddenly filled the sky, signaling the storm that was to come. It looked as though snow would be melting soon enough. But in that crack of lightening I saw the blade of the knife raise above Roberts head, and I heard Holmes yell, and saw him raise his hands to shield his face. Robert laughed horribly, but the tables turned for the last time. A thin hand stuck out and twisted the arm with knife. For a moment I thought it was Holmes's hand, but it couldn't be Holmes, for he was still underneath Robert. Who then...?
Irene grabbed Roberts hand and twisted him. He dropped the knife over the edge of the bridge. Irene slapped Robert, then shoved him backwards, and over the rail.
Robert plummeted down towards the icy water I knew could kill, his screams echoing in the dead air. With a splash, I knew Robert had breathed his last.
Holmes slowly rose from the edge of the bridge and looked at Irene in awe. His fragile sister took one look at him and collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Holmes rushed forward and pulled her into his arms. I smiled even as the dark crept into my eyes, preparing me for the blackout I knew was long overdue. With a rush of gratitude I slipped into the arms of darkness.
