Kathryn…
Kathryn looked up and saw Mr. Holmes standing in the doorway of her study, watching her work. "Mr. Holmes," she said, almost dropping the beaker of Hydrogen Peroxide she was working with. "I was not expecting you to be here. At all."
He smiled. Almost. "I know," he said. "I needed to talk to you."
She set down the beaker and wiped her hands on her stained chemistry apron. "Really," she said. "May I ask why?"
He sighed and entered the room, closing the door behind him. "It is no mystery to me what you have been doing with the supplies I gave you," he said. She waited. "Soon, your name will be across the front page of The London Times along with the story of your crimes. Therefore, you are left with three options: stay here and allow yourself to be caught, turn yourself over to Scotland Yard in repentance, or marry someone and allow him to complete responsibility for you and keep you in his protection."
She returned to work. "Or," she said, "I could kill myself and be done with it all." She raised the beaker of Hydrogen Peroxide to her mouth, threatening Mr. Holmes that she would drink it.
"No," he said, quickly taking the beaker from her, accidentally spilling some.
Kathryn yanked her hand away. "Ouch!" she said, wiping her hand with a wet towel.
"You shouldn't work with chemicals if you have an uncovered open wounds," he said, setting the beaker down. "You're fortunate that this only cleans wounds, instead of worsening them. Here." He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wrapped it around Kathryn's hand, covering the cut.
"Thank you," she said softly. "What were you saying?"
"You need to find protection," he said, helping her with the chemicals. "Whether leaving the country or marrying a man who can protect you—"
"Who would you suggest?" she said, interrupting him and placing her protective glasses on her forehead and wiping her hair out of her face. "I've been married before, and I've found my past exploits with men to prove useless and irritating."
"Perhaps if you found someone who corresponded with your personality—" he said. "He could know your secret, your particular weaknesses—"
"My weaknesses?" she repeated. "I don't have weaknesses." He gave her a pointed look. "Besides, who would you suggest I marry?" She grabbed a vial of Magnesium shavings and poured a small spoonful into an empty beaker. "Hand me that flask of Fluorine." Mr. Holmes did as she asked. "Thank you. Honestly, though. Were I to marry, which man would accept me for who I am and not judge me for my past?"
"I hadn't thought much on it," he said. "Be careful with that, Miss Bennet. But, perhaps—"
"Perhaps you thought I should marry you?" she said, quickly pulling on her protective glasses. She carefully mixed some of the Fluorine with the infusion of Magnesium Chloride. The reaction was not what she expected. "Interesting. Very interesting." She carefully distributed the solution into small vials. "Well? Was that it?"
She looked up and saw he was surprised. "Well," he said. "If you wish it." He fell silent. She waited. "I suppose, if you wished it, it could be."
"Mr. Holmes," she said, once again lifting her protective glasses. "You know it would never work. I would distract you; you would distract me. You would keep me from my work."
"Your criminal tendencies, you mean."
She looked up at him. "No," she said. "My chemical research." She returned to recording her findings on her experiment. "Though, I suppose I should thank you."
"Thank me?"
"Yes," she said, writing furiously. "If you hadn't sent me the anonymous letter in the first place, asking for my services in return for my supplies, I never would have gotten into the business."
"If you hadn't posted an advertisement in the agony columns," he countered, "I wouldn't have sent you the letter. What were you thinking; signing as—as—"
"As Dr. F.W. Darcy, Chemist?" she asked. "I assumed that if I used my real name, I wouldn't get any results. So, thank you for sending your letter."
"You're welcome, I would say," he said. "Had it not been for the fact that you've been murdering people with your little experiments."
She looked up at him. "What would you have me do?" she asked. "Sit at home, combine chemicals and unstable materials, in hopes that something will explode or make pretty colored clouds in my home? Honestly, Mr. Holmes. We're both active minds. One would think that you, of all people, would understand my need to further my knowledge of chemistry."
"But murder?" he asked. "What would drive you to kill someone only to further your knowledge of your subject?"
Kathryn shut her research notebook with a snap. "What would drive you to offer me supplies in return for my services in disposing of Professor Moriarty?" she asked. "I believe this discussion is over."
"That is your final decision, then?" he asked, walking towards the door. "You won't do as I advise?"
"Your advice?" she repeated. "That I marry you? No, I think I'll have to decline your proposal. Good evening, Mr. Holmes. I trust you can find your own way to my front door?"
"Good evening, Miss Bennet," he said, leaving the room.
She leaned on the table in front of her and sighed, thinking hard and thinking quickly. Because she knew Mr. Holmes was right.
And when Mr. Holmes called the next morning to entreat her to reconsider her decision, she was gone. And all her homemade poisons and all her possessions that could fit in a traveling trunk were gone. But, upon the table where she was working the evening before, Mr. Holmes discovered a letter addressed to him.
Kathryn sat at her desk and stared at the wardrobe. The response to the letter she left for Mr. Holmes was locked inside the despatch-box. She absently tapped the key to the despatch-box on her desktop as she considered taking the letter out of the box and reading the contents of Mr. Holmes' thoughts.
She stood and took the despatch-box out of the wardrobe. But, before she could open it again, she was, once again, interrupted by a knock at the door. She hastily put the despatch-box away and said, "Yes? What is it?"
The door opened and Sawyer stepped into the doorframe. "We're surfacing in a minute," he said. "We're back in Ireland."
