It was over.
A battle for everything she held dear, and it was over.
It took six months for everything to come down.
The Duke won. All the deeds to the trades from her father's business, their homes in France, Scotland, and England, everything was gone, with only a pen stroke. Cassandra sat in front of the table ridden to her wheelchair, the TB was slowly taking over her and it was only time till she died.
Everyone knew.
The banker moved the paper in front of her towards the other end of the table, where her step mother and the Duke sat. There he gave her a smile filled with greed as he signed the paper. It was offical. All she could was sit in her chair and watch around her as her town house was slowly emptied of it's contents.
She didn't have to fear for her life any longer, the Duke knew that too. She was dying. It was nightfall, and still she sat in her wheelchair, in the front room where the paper was signed, and where she lost everything. A littles away sitting on the steps of the empty town house was her faithful servant Frank. "Frank..." She whispered, loud footsteps were heard behind her as he moved into the room standing beside his mistress. His eyes filled with tears at the state she was in, sad, pathetic everything she wasn't. He remembered how he took care of her when she was young, growing into a beautiful vibrant young woman. Now she sat in the wheelchair, deathly pale, small, and weak.
"Yes Mi'lady?" asking with such devotion and love, that Cassandra let out a litte chuckle. He had the chance to leave her services, but he only stayed. He helped her with daily rountines that she use to do herself, but she was reduced to this. A sick woman, at an age where she could be married with children.
"Where are we to stay now? I have but a few shillings to help me on my way to back to China... If I make it..."
"You're staying with me till you leave for China.." A voice echoed behind them, at once Frank turned around alarm. He didn't hear anyone enter the house at all. Cassandra only shook her head. There Dr. Watson stood, snow flakes still on his black jacket and his hat. "Frank and I had already made the arrrangements, it's better anyway. I am near you, so that I can monitor you and your state of illness." She didn't bother to argue, it took to much out of her and she needed the energy to breath.
"You're a very stubborn man Dr.Watson... But what are you to monitor me with? I have no money to help you pay for the medicine to treat me... I know they are expensive, you have told me once..."
"That is too arranged... Frank come, the carriage is waiting outside."
Holmes never felt any more rotten then now, Watson had telegramed him on his plans to take Cassandra into his home till she departed from China. He had also told him, that it was unlikely she was going to live on the ship much less live till the date of her departure. The medicine that help her live one more day, was paid by Mycroft for that was as much as he could do, since his help before hand didn't help. He received the telegram two weeks ago, and he nevered replied back, nor did he even try to visit Watson. Just as he was about to head to his room, Martha rushed into the room waving a telegram in front of Holme's face.
"Mr. Holmes this telegram was just given in. Watson is in need of your help." At once he grabbed his jacket toward Watson's house, but was aware that there was only one set of light and it was coming from the top guestroom. Ever so slowly did he climb those steps, down at the sitting room Mrs. Watson sat crying dressed in her nightgown. Frank too as if he hurried out of bed sat at the steps that led to the bedrooms. His face buried in his arms, not noticing Holmes as he entered the house and went up the steps. The hall was dark and the maid was hurrying down the hall with a basin of blood toward the bathroom from the guestroom.
"I need you to sit up Cassandra, or you might drown in your own blood." Watson said loudly, just as Holmes stood at the doorway. He couldn't believe what he saw. There on in the very hot bedroom, and on the bed laid Cassandra. But it wasn't the Cassandra he knew. She looked like she was at death's doorstep. Watson with his sleeves rolled up and his forehead glisten with sweat pratically pulled the wieghtless woman to a sitting position in time for her to cough out a puddle of blood into an already waitng basin. "There you go... That's a good girl."
"Sor-" She gave Watson an imploring look of shame and sadness.
"Shh. Just sit up a bit and I'll give you your medicine-"
"No more." She whispered hoarsely, moving her face toward the door and stared at Holmes. "No more." again she whispered, still looking at Holmes. Watson turned and gave a look of 'what are you doing here, you worthless piece of trash'. The maid returned with a new basin and took over Watson's space as she cleaned Cassandra's mouth and made her comfortable. Holmes moved even closer to look at Cassandra closely but not that close that she could reach him. Watson got up briskly and took out a glass syrine from a black box, inside was a purplish liquid. Lifting both right sleeve Holmes fell at the sight of so many scars done by the medicine, in finding a good spot Watson lifted her other sleeve, to find that her other arm was filled with the same scars too. With no choice, he whispered to Cassandra something and lifted her night gown, enough to cover her but to show her left thigh and poked the shot there. Letting out a loud groan she closed her eyes. Moving around the maid and Watson covered her up and motioning to Holmes they both left Cassandra in the care of the maid.
"What are you doing here? Are you turning to make her last moments on earth the worst ones?" He whispered hotly.
"I got A tele-"
"I didn't send you one."
"But-"
"I did." They glanced down the stairs and looked at Mycroft as he took off his jacket that Frank accepted. His eyes were sharp, and his frame was massive giving him a demanding presence.
"Why?" Holmes asked loudly, what was this?
"Because she needs someone here, and who rather then the one that help place her into this situation."
"I didn't give her the bloody disease if that is what you are implying."
"No but you did break her heart." Watson and Holmes stood at the top of the stairs as Watson mounted them takeing two at a time and within seconds was standing with the two men. "How is she doing?" Watson gave him a sad shake of his head.
"She's not going to make it through the night, I gave the medicine but it's not going to help... She's dying."
"May I see her?" Watson nodded and all three men moved toward the bedroom, Holmes stayed at the doorway as Mycroft and Waton moved toward Cassandra's bedside. He watched as his brother gave Cassandra's fevered brow a kiss and held her hand in his. Her eyes were open now and stayed at his brothers. Words were exchanged, and then she coughed into the basin in her lap. Again the blood poured out. This time Mycroft took out a hankchief from his pocket and cleaned her mouth, she smiled and said something. That Holmes couldn't make out. Both men turned to look at Holmes then back to Cassandra. Again she said something and they nodded in agreement and went to Holmes at the doorway.
"She wants to see you. You best do as she says, its the only thing you can do for the dying kid." Watson said at that they both left closing the door behind them. Making his way slowly to her bedside, she laid upon her pillows eyes closed, her breathing coming out in rasps. He glanced at her lap and at the half way filled basin wasn't it only a few moments ago just new?
"Sherlock.." He looked back at her face to see that her eyes were opened and he could see those goldish brown eyes.
"Cassandra." She smiled.
"To.. Hear.. My name... from... your lips..." She trailed, moving eyes to the side of her bed then at him. He sat down taking her hand which felt deathly cold in his.
"I- I- didn't mean what I said... I was foolish... stupid... I-"
"shh." She smiled again and sighed.
"I- I'm sorry."
"You... gave... me... something I...never...felt before... love...don't...be...sorry...I'll...die...happy knowing...that...peace... has passed...between...us. I... Always loved... you... I still...do..." He smiled and bend down to kiss her forehead, but she straighten up suddenly and bent forward to spit out blood. and fell back knocking the blood over so that it splashed upon Holme's shirt. He glanced at her face as her eyes rolled back into her head.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" He yelled, at once Mycroft and Watson entered. Followed by Frank and the maid and at last Watson's wife. He watched as Cassandra cried in pain clutching her chest, her other hand holding on to Frank's who was crying openly.
"Cassandra!" Watson yelled over her cries, as he stabbed her with a syrine. She slowly settled down, her hands falling limply to her sides as he head lolled back on the pillows.
There Holmes stilled vigil at her bedside and there he woke to find that she passed during the night.
Since then Holmes had never tried to love again, for the loss of Cassandra Chang was something that no one could ever fulfill.
The Greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and loved in return...
