Howdy, back again with another chapter of the story. I watched the movies again a couple of days ago and overcame a bit of writer's block. And now, to answer a review!
Sam Fraser: I would love to write a version of A Game of Shadows where Irene actually lives, I agree that her part in this movie was waaay to short and even though I adore Simza with all my fan girl heart, I was kind of hoping to see some Adlock action. I will keep it in mind for a future short story? What do y'all think of that?
Anyway, without further ado, here's Chapter Six!
The cold, autumn wind slashed at our faces and at the speed the train was going, we could have been blown right off and that would make for an interesting story, or a newspaper article, "Two Girls, A Doctor and A Detective Fall To Their Untimely Deaths While Walking Along The Sides of A Train." I could imagine having to tell my dear mother and father the tragic news. What would they have to say about that, eh? They would probably have a nervous breakdown. I could picture their faces as I looked up to the sky so that I wouldn't have to look down at the ground so far down below us. One misstep and we could die, well, I don't know about that actually, Mary landed safely in the water, but would it still be there when we fell? Maybe. Let's hope it would be. I was praying to God, or whoever was up there watching over us that we would not die tonight.
Well, I'll tell you what, Simza was right about one thing, this was certainly an adventure, but I couldn't help but think that this could possibly be the last day of my life, and that was a shame. There were so many things that I wanted to do before I died, true, I admittedly crossed one thing off of my short list, but I still wanted to travel the world, graduate from university, get married, have a family, and live a quiet peaceful life as I grow old and gray.
"You should know this is craziest thing I've ever done!" I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the sound of the whistle blowing so loudly that it nearly deafened me and drowned out my voice and for one second, I was convinced that it had damaged my eardrums. It wasn't that loud when we were inside the train, then again, we had windows to block out the noise.
"What was that?" Jane replied, I could only just assume that's what she was saying from the way she was moving her lips. "I can't hear a word you're saying!"
"When I was six, I stole Mother's lipstick and put it on the bedroom mirror, I'm sorry I blamed it on you, Jane!" I turned to Jane and she furrowed her eyebrows, utterly confused. Did she think I had gone mental? Perhaps.
"Lottie, dear. What are you talking about?" She was squinting her eyes, trying to keep things from getting blown into them as we zoomed by. "That lipstick incident was ages ago, why are you bringing it up now?"
"I'm confessing all my sins before I die!" I replied, a little too dramatically, but I was panicking, and when I panic, I don't think rationally. "And since you're the only one who can hear me, I am confessing them to you. And please, don't call me Lottie!"
"We're not dying, everything's going to be alright, just look at me and don't look down," Jane said, gripping the sides of the train harder and trying to keep the fear out of her voice. At first I thought that she was talking to herself, but then I noticed that she was looking at me. I nodded and I concentrated on where to place my feet, praying that gravity and God were on my side. After a while, I was able to get a rhythm and I kept to it.
"Well, you can cross one thing off of your list, too," I said, we were closer to each other now, so we could actually talk and it seemed like the conductor decided to stop blowing the whistle, thank goodness for that.
"What's that?" Jane asked, just as I missed a step. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a little shriek, but she grabbed me just in time. When we both recovered, she said. "What did I do that I can cross off my list?"
"You got to meet Sherlock Holmes," I threw her a grin and she did the same.
"It wasn't what I expected, I'll admit. I thought I would pass by him in the street, not meet him on the Orient Express! And I was hoping that his face would be more clean and that he would be dressed better."
"Sometimes you just gotta take what you get," I giggled. "Do you still want to marry him now?"
"Shut up!" She laughed risking falling to poke my side, I laughed and scooted out of the way. "Besides, I think you're the one he's interested in. He practically follows you like a little puppy follows his master."
"Really? I haven't noticed," I replied sarcastically, then in a more serious tone, I added. "I honestly don't know how this keeps happening, I think it's pure coincidence, though."
"Yes, or he's in love with you!" She teased with a smirk.
"Really Jane? We're about to die, and this is what we're discussing?"
She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "I told you already, we're not going to die, at least I hope not, I'm just saying, it won't be long until I'm a married woman and you'll need someone to look after you while I'm gone."
"One, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and two, Married? You're not even engaged yet."
"Well, my friend, Diana, says that I'm going to be engaged soon enough, I heard people talking about William and I at the wedding. They say that he might propose to me as soon as I come back from Paris."
"That's wonderful!" I said, genuinely happy for my twin. But I kind of cursed under my breath, I wished they hadn't spoiled it for her, after all, it was probably supposed to be a surprise, but Diana had a tendency not to think before she spoke.
"I know what you're thinking, but chances are, I will forget about all of that and be surprised when he does propose." She relaxed a little and so did I.
But the subject of our conversation didn't seem to notice that we were talking about him, he and Watson were having their own discussion, though it was more of an argument. From the look on the latter's face, he looked like he wanted to toss him off a train.
"Don't worry, Watson, she's as safe as houses, she's with my brother," Holmes said to Watson, speaking of Mary.
"I'm on my honeymoon!" He shouted angrily, trying to land a kick, but that would be a dangerous idea. "Why did you lead them here? Why did you involve us? Or these innocent young ladies?"
"Innocent?!" Jane yelled just as the whistle blew again. I'll tell you, I wanted to find that whistle and toss it into the ocean.
"They're not here, for me or them. They're here for you!" Holmes shouted back, looking over Watson's shoulder.
Watson looked at him, confused, as we saw one of the soldiers stick his head out of the carriage we just vacated. The grenade went off and the soldier was flung out of the train. We hung on to the sides tighter as the shock waves went through the train. Holmes opened another door and walked into another carriage, that was occupied by an elderly couple. "Good evening," he said, calmly.
The elderly woman gasped as her husband ran over to her and held her close to him, neither of them sure what to make of the scene in front of them. Holmes walked over to the other side of the carriage and opened the door. "I think you'll find second class is more comfortable, coast is clear," he said as he moved out of the way of the door and gestured to the door for the couple. They didn't move, or maybe they were too shocked to do so. "To the South! Quick, march!" He urged and the couple ran out of the compartment as we climbed in.
Holmes closed the one door while Watson and I closed the other. I let out a huge sigh of relief, I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and then two of us turned around to see Holmes on the floor on his back. "Lie down with me," he ordered. Jane didn't hesitate, she was already there. Sometimes I wanted to put a leash on that girl, a tight leash.
"Why?" Watson asked, annoyed and exasperated.
"I insist," he said as he pulled me down to the floor and then pulled out his pipe and a match and started to light it. Watson rolled his eyes and laid on the other side of Jane.
"What are we doing down here?" I asked, terrified and annoyed, as Holmes took the first puff of smoke.
"We are waiting. I am smoking." Holmes replied, nonchalantly. I let out a huff, looking to Watson as if to say, "Is he always like this?" He gives me a shrug and a small smile.
Just a few seconds later, bullets began to fly everywhere. We curled up on our sides, close to each other; Holmes still smoking his pipe. "Patiently waiting," he added.
"For what?" Watson asked, shouting over the gunfire. Holmes reached in his pocket and pulled out a small gun and handed it to Watson.
"Your window of opportunity." he said as Watson took the gun. Then the gunfire stopped and John got up and aimed the gun through the hole the gunfire has made. "Make it count!"
Watson took aim and saw the gunman. He fired the gun and the bullet hit the man in the arm, who happened to drop an active grenade. Then another gunman came up the machine gun and continued to shoot at us, debris of wood flew across our faces and we covered our heads to protect ourselves. A few minutes later, when everything seemed to settle, we stood up.
"Are you alright, Jane?" I asked, dusting her off. There was dirt and wood shavings in her blond hair, but there was a smile on her face.
"Yes, right as rain, but you look like a mess," she laughed. I pulled her into a hug, thankful that we were both still alive. "Wait until we tell Mum and Dad!"
"I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear that we almost died, but you can tell them in our letter." I patted the top of her head and she smiled.
After a while we were sitting in a luggage carriage, Watson giving him the silent treatment. I had never seen this side of him before. He was always so light-hearted around Grandfather, telling jokes that only the two of them and occasionally Father would understand, but the neutral expression on Holmes' face told me that this was nothing new. Maybe they were always like this, just like Jane and I, one always got into trouble and the other one always tried to get them out of it.
"Who'd have known that honeymooning in Brighton was such a dangerous notion?" Holmes asked Watson, who wasn't even looking at him, but instead, fiddling with one of the frayed edges of his blue and brown striped scarf, the one that Mary made for him, twirling it between his fingers.
"Is that what this is about?" Watson asked, finally looking up.
"By you admission, you'd never enjoyed it there," he said to him.
"I never been to Brighton," Watson said, firmly.
"Or...your just too fragile to remember at present," Holmes muttered as Jane gave a small chuckle.
"Oh, shut up! Tell me that my wife's safe!" Watson demanded.
"I promise. As I said I timed it perfectly," Holmes said.
"Why were Mary and I targeted at all?"
"Excellent question. The answer is two fold." Holmes began but Watson started talking over him.
"He's after us because of you, Holmes."
"I'm afraid you must bear half the responsibility," Holmes continued.
"Here it comes," Watson said, exasperated.
"Had you and Mary had not not been so hellbent on your wedding, we could've solved this case."
"There it is...it's my fault now." Watson muttered. The two of them bickered back and forth for a while and I thought about what Mother and Father would think if they knew what we just did. They specifically told us that if any danger came our way, we were not supposed to get involved, but in our defense, we didn't exactly have a choice. I would feel a lot more safer when we were with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Daisy and our cousins.
"But it does seem that our partnership has not yet run its course. Watson, if you could be bothered to see this through to the end, I will never again ask you to assist me." he said, softly.
Watson stared out in front of him for a second before he turned to look at him, staring into his brown eyes. "Once more unto the bridge." Watson said, raising his pointer finger in the air.
"I want in, too," Jane piped up, taking me completely by surprise and causing me to jump to my feet. The two men looked over at her, but she continued. "Come on, Lottie. Do something crazy for once in your life."
"What do you think we just did?" I asked her, raising my arms for emphasis. "We shuffled on the edge of a train, Jane! We could have died! Is that crazy enough for you?!"
"It was crazy! And it was thrilling! Do you really want to spend two weeks in a stuffy old mansion with three noisy kids running around and telling you what's black or what's white, or do you want to join us in hunting down a criminal mastermind with even louder explosions and a high chance of death?"
"Look, I don't really think we should-" I began, but she cut me off.
"It'll be just like living your own story," Jane said in what she thought was an enticing voice. That's true, I thought, then she leaned over toward me and added, "Besides, who else gets to say that they have solved a case with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?" Now that was enticing.
At the mention of his name, Holmes looked up at me with an almost pleading look and that same alluring smile that made my heart skip. There was no point in arguing, I looked to Watson but he just chuckled and looked back at me, so it was three against one. I let out a sigh.
"I suppose," I said, knowing there was no point in arguing with my sister. She giggled and told me that I was the best big sister ever. "But just so you know that if I die, and I become a ghost, I will come into your bedroom and haunt you for the rest of your life."
"That's the spirit!" Holmes said, excitedly, still beaming and I smiled. Pull yourself together, I told myself.
"Now to the question...it is so deliciously complicated. You maybe asking yourself? What does a criminal mastermind want with a simple gypsy fortune teller? It's about her brother, I tell you."
Gypsy fortune teller? Was he talking about Simza? Of course he was. What other fortune tellers did I know? The attack back at the club made a lot more sense now. Simza's brother was working with Moriarty and now they were both in danger. My stomach dropped. This was why I couldn't ever be a detective, even if I wanted to, I get too emotionally attached to people, that, and I can't handle a gun to save my life.
But that's because I never thought I would have to. I was more of a solve an argument civilly kind of girl, but I had a feeling that I wouldn't survive this on my ability to make tea and biscuits, would I? Not unless the professor liked tea and biscuits more than committing crime.
I seriously doubt that.
"When we find him and we must-" Holmes continued, but Watson and I both had the same question on our minds.
"Wait...where is it we're going?" I asked, already trying to plan what we were going to tell my aunt and uncle and my parents. I couldn't tell them what was really going on. What if Moriarty got a hold of the letter and threatened my family? And my aunt and uncle aren't dense, they would be able to tell when something was wrong.
I could think of something. Adrenaline should kick in and I'll know what to do.
"Paris, the most sensible honeymoon destination of all." Holmes replied, dramatically. I actually found myself smiling at these words. Maybe we would see them after all.
"We were actually on our way there!" Jane said, much to their surprise. I let the three of them chatter on. Jane had a billion questions to ask and it made Watson and I laugh to watch Holmes' reactions to some of them. Jane is like my mother, once she starts talking, there's no stopping her.
Ever.
I felt my eyes start getting heavy and I was struggling to stay awake. The events of the day and all of the fresh country air had worn me out. I let my head fall back against the seat and closed my eyes, hearing the words spoken by the three voices around me fade into nonsense and listening to the gentle sound of the train rolling on the tracks.
The next day, the four of us boarded a boat that was heading to Paris. I was doing surprisingly well at keeping my nausea under control, in fact, I didn't seem to have it at all. The water was unusually calm. We all sat on a bench in silence, breathing in the smells of the sea, a mixture of salt and a small dose of fish. I was comfortable with the silence, just sitting here in peace and quiet and reading my book.
After a while, Watson spoke up. "So why Paris?"
"Peaches," Holmes replied. "Outside the city at Montlicon, there's a gypsy camp famous for its dried fruit, especially peaches." He pulled out a pouch from his suitcase and showed a dried up peach to Watson. Jane looked over at it and sniffed it.
"Smells nice," she remarked, sitting up straight again.
"There we shall find our fortune teller, and we'll return her bag." He said as Watson looked down at the open suitcases, that belonged to Holmes, and saw something of interest inside. He reached down and pulls out the bloody handkerchief and someone's initials stitched onto it. His mouth hung open as he looked over at him.
I looked closely at the initials embroidered into the cloth : I. A.
Irene Adler.
Jane had told me while sorting through her newspaper clippings, that Miss Adler and Holmes had a tangled history together, more tangled than Romeo and Juliet or any literary couple could ever be. He was always chasing after her and even though she was always getting into some kind of trouble, he would always be there to get her out of it. Sometimes they would drift apart, but would always find their way back to each other.
That kind of love was hard to find these days, and I might not have been an expert on matters of the heart, I could see the hurt and sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry," I said, softly, as he took the cloth out of Watson's hand. I watched as he walked over to the edge of the boat unsure of what to say or do. I knew from previous experience in loss, that words of comfort, as nice as they were to hear, didn't do much to help someone feel better. It didn't stop the overwhelming sadness and anger that someone felt over losing someone else that they had probably spent years with, and whose deepest secrets they knew. There was also guilt somewhere in there, like he wished he could have said more, done more to help her, possibly hide her somewhere where no one would ever find her. Tell her that everything was alright, and that he would never abandon her.
I made my way to stand beside him and looked down at the cloth and the blood spot and I was sure that his eyes filled up with tears. I didn't know Miss Adler very well, although we went to school together, until I saw her at one of Mother's social gatherings, then we instantly became friends. She was the kind of person who I could have a good laugh with, share a few jokes and maybe engage in some harmless gossip. But then Mother heard about her life of crime and that added her to the list of people she didn't approve of me being around.
We knew just about everyone in London.
Just about.
I hardly knew this puzzle of a man standing beside me, lost in thought, his mind somewhere I couldn't and wouldn't try to reach.
I watched the tears fall down his face as he looked out towards the ocean. He fiddled with the cloth in his hands and whispered something along the lines of. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Irene. Even if I didn't I...I love you." He walked closer to the edge and lifted his hand up, that was holding the cloth, and tossed it into the ocean. "Goodbye," he whispered, tearfully. Watson could only stare at him with sympathy and it became clear to me that Sherlock Holmes rarely cried, but he didn't say anything, he just kept watching his friend morosely.
I wanted so badly to let him cry into my shoulder, to give him some form of comfort, some words of encouragement and support, but there was nothing I could think of. Sometimes words don't help. I felt like I should do something, though, so I let one of my hands slide across the railing toward his and while giving me a sad smile, he took it into his own. We stayed like this as the boat sailed across the ocean, taking us to our destination.