Sherlock
"So, what's the plan?" John asked.
The three of us were in a cab heading toward Irene Adler's residence. Maxine had been oddly quiet—not her usual sort of comfortable silence, but something that was awkward and anxious. I glanced at her and couldn't figure out exactly what was bothering her. Was she upset that I made her leave the scarf behind? I still didn't quite understand how someone like Maxine could find so much value in a simple object.
"We know her address," I replied to John's question.
"What, just ring the doorbell?" John raised his brows.
"Exactly," I said. To the cabbie, I called. "Just here, please."
"You didn't even change your clothes," John pointed out.
"Then it's time to add a splash of color," I replied.
The cab pulled over and the three of us exited the vehicle. I led the Watsons down a narrow street, pulling off my scarf as we walked. After I heard the taxi pull away and was certain no other cars were nearby, I stopped and turned to face the siblings.
"Are we here?" John asked.
"Two streets away, but this'll do," I said.
John looked confused. "For what?"
Maxine, however, locked eyes with me and her mouth twitched a little. "The wounded lamb routine?" she said with a sigh.
"What?" John looked between the two of us, frowning again.
I gestured to my left cheek. "Punch me in the face."
"Punch you?" John repeated.
"Yes. Punch me, in the face." I gestured to my cheek again. "Didn't you hear me?"
"I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually sub-text," John said.
Maxine chuckled.
"Oh, for God's sakes," I said in exasperation.
I swiftly swung a punch into John's face, sending him staggering back and grunting in pain. My knuckles ached; I hadn't prepped my hand properly to execute the strike. As I shook out my hand, I looked up to see while John was reeling, Maxine had locked her eyes on me.
She didn't look pleased.
I let out a breath, suddenly realizing who I should have asked to hit me. I barely managed to brace myself in time before Maxine's fist collided with my left cheek. There was a surprising amount of strength in her arm, and it nearly sent me to the ground. Gaining my balance and blinking back tears of pain, I clenched the side of my face.
"Thank you. That was—that was..." I began.
However, before I could finish, John had recovered and surged forward to deliver a punch to my stomach. That time I hit the ground. Groaning in pain, I started to get to my feet, gasping for the breath that had been knocked from me.
"Not entirely necessary," I rasped when I reached my feet, "but I suppose it adds to the... the act."
I started to turn, but John abruptly leapt onto my back. One of his arms went around my neck while the other gripped my head. His legs wrapped around my middle and I staggered under his weight. I reached up and started trying to pull him off my airway, but the shorter man—like his sister—was astonishingly strong for his size.
"Okay!" I said, half-choking. "I think we're done now, John."
"You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier," John snarled in my ear. "I killed people."
"You were a doctor!" I exclaimed.
"I had bad days!" John shouted.
"John, John." Maxine came to our side and gripped her brother's arm. "I think he's had enough. At this rate we'll have to carry him over to her doorstep!"
John remained clinging to my back for a moment longer before he released his hold and landed on his feet. He panted for lost breath and awkwardly nodded at me when I turned to give him a reproachful look.
"Well, we want it to seem realistic," he said.
Maxine sighed and shook her head. "How do the three of us survive in the same flat?"
"A mystery even I can't solve," I muttered, rubbing my neck. "All right. So. The plan. I've been mugged, John saw the whole thing, is a doctor, and will be accompanying me to a place where we can use a phone."
"Irene's place," Maxine said. "What am I doing?"
"What we did with Sebastian," I told her. "You're my girlfriend."
Maxine blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Aren't you meant to be bait to this woman?" John asked.
"And forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, apparently," I said with a shrug. "She seems to be someone who appreciates a challenge."
"So I'm her challenge." Maxine folded her arms.
"Yes," I said. "We were strolling along, on our way to the restaurant down the street—Oliver's—to have a date celebrating our one-year anniversary and we got mugged. I defended you, and the mugger attacked and took our things."
"So I didn't get struck at all?" Maxine raised her brows.
"No, no, the mugger saw me as the threat. You, worried for my safety, gave him your belongings to make him leave while he took mine while I was on the ground," I explained.
Maxine narrowed her eyes slightly. I frowned; she seemed too... callous today. She wasn't her normal awkward, carefree self. Her posture was stiff and she kept avoiding my gaze. I'd never seen her like this before and no matter how much I looked at her, I couldn't discern the cause.
"Sure, let's just hurry on," she finally said.
Briefly, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reached up and pinched her own cheeks a few times until they were flushed. Then, she yawned several times, forcing her eyes to water up. She shook out her hands, took another breath, then she went to my side.
"Good thing I've been a little bugged by allergies this week," she said, sniffing to show how her nose wasn't exactly clear.
"Very good," I told her with an approving nod. "Now, once inside, at some point I'm going to need one of you to get the fire alarm to go off. Most likely John; he'll have more excuse to leave the room."
John nodded. "I can do that."
"Let's go," I said.
Maxine reached over and grabbed my arm. She pulled it around her waist while she wrapped her own arm around my lower back in a supporting fashion. Then, without another word, she began pulling us forward.
I guided us to Irene's address. The building had an intercom with a camera lens peeking out from about it. Maxine and I rushed up to it, instantly getting into character. I pushed the button and kept casting nervous glances over my shoulder. Maxine did the same and she panted slightly from her mouth, giving the impression she was panicked.
"Hello?" a female's voice called over the speaker.
"Ooh!" I said, jumping a bit. I kept my voice high and tight with anxiety while still looking over my shoulder. "Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, we've just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they... they took my wallet and, um, and her purse, and both our phones. Umm, please, could you help us?"
Maxine nodded beside me, still breathing heavily. I could feel her warm breath on the side of my neck.
"I can phone the police if you want," the woman said.
It was impossible to tell if who I spoke to was Irene or not. I blinked up tears and sniffled.
"Thank you, thank you!" I said. "Could you, please?"
I took a step back from the camera, bringing Maxine with me. She reached over and put her hand on my chest to get my attention. Looking over at her, I saw her staring at me questioningly. Her brows were knotted up to show empathy and worry more than curiosity. The expression made it seem like she was seriously concerned about my condition; like she cared whether or not I was in any pain.
Maxine's acting had improved quite a bit since we first began doing cases together. However, in that moment, I was astounded by how genuine she seemed. Her hand's presence was oddly comforting. I swallowed and nodded shakily.
"I'm... I'm all right. Are you?" I reached over and cupped her face with my free hand.
Maxine blinked at the contact, but managed to recover swiftly. She nodded and sniffled.
"I just... what if they come back?" she whispered.
"I know, I know." I looked at the camera lens again. "Oh, would you... would you mind if we just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much."
Reaching up to grip my cheek, I began to let out small, tearful breaths. Maxine's grip on me tightened and she trembled.
"It's okay, it's all right," she murmured just loud enough for the intercom to hear. "You were so brave. You protected me."
I'd never heard Maxine speak so... sincerely. It was like she was another person. Meeting her eyes, I nodded fretfully and gave her a weak smile.
We heard the buzz of the woman letting us through. John, who had been watching from outside the camera's view rather sulkily, put on a worried expression and followed us in. When we stepped inside, I forced myself not to look around right away. I had to remain the panicked office worker who was too scatter-brained to be observant.
A woman in a high-end white blouse, loose black tie, and black pencil skirt walked toward us in high heels. Her hair was ginger, much like Maxine's, but hers flowed down in smooth waves to her shoulders while Maxine's remained in tight ringlets and only reached her jawline.
"Thank you," I told her, then took a moment to glance around.
The entrance hall was large and ornate. The floor was wooden with matching panels that reached waist-high on the walls. Above that, they were white with an intricate swirling silver pattern.
"Er, ooh!" I said, raising my brows.
Of course, it would make sense for Irene Adler to have an expensive living space, but Sherlock the office worker didn't know that.
"I-I saw it all happen," John said as he closed the door behind us. "It's okay, I'm a doctor."
The woman nodded at us. I examined her face for a moment. Her expression was empathetic and the way she held herself was practiced and well-postured. She was most likely Irene's assistant.
"Now, have you got a first aid kit?" John asked the woman.
"In the kitchen," she said, and gestured for us to go into the front room. "Please."
"Oh!" I said, understanding she meant for Maxine and I to rest while she took John to get the kit. "Thank you! Come on, let's go sit."
Maxine, who still clung to me, nodded shakily and I tugged her into the next room while John followed the woman to the kitchen. There was plush white carpet lining the floors and the walls matched it while also carrying golden accents that lined concave rectangles across its surface. There were expensive-looking couches that were a subtle gray in color facing one another across a wooden coffee table.
Sitting down, Maxine finally released me. Left alone in the room for the moment, she looked over at me with pursed lips.
"What?" I whispered as I took off my coat.
"She makes interesting use of her money," she replied softly.
I almost snorted. If Maxine had this kind of finances, she's most likely have a large warehouse filled with art supplies and books; it would probably be a constant mess too. I took out my handkerchief and put it to my cheek that she'd punched. Watching me, she grimaced a little.
"Was it too hard?" she asked, still keeping her voice low.
"It was... surprising," I told her with a small smirk.
The sound of heels clacking on wood flooring began to approach us. I bounced my eyebrows at Maxine before getting back into character. She gripped my arm and started reaching toward my face, her expression falling back into one of concern.
"Hello," a woman's voice said—not the woman who greeted us at the door. "Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name."
"I'm so sorry," I began, letting my voice become tremulous again. "I'm..."
However, my voice failed me when I turned toward the woman who walked into the room. It was Irene Adler, with her dark hair done up, her face bearing perfect makeup, and wearing nothing but high-heeled shoes.
My jaw went slack and Maxine stiffened beside me.
"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" Irene said, smiling seductively.
She strode into the room and stood directly in front of me before straddling my legs and half-kneeling on the side of the sofa Maxine wasn't on. Irene glanced between the two of us, then reached down and gently pulled Maxine's hand away from me. My companion was in too much shock to resist, her mouth slightly agape like mine.
"There now," Irene said. "We're all defrocked." She smiled down at me. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes..." She turned her gaze to Maxine. "And Miss Maxine Watson."
"Miss Adler, I presume," I said, returning to my normal voice as my initial shock wore off.
Irene gazed down at my face. "Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She narrowed her eyes and began to lean down toward me.
Maxine's hand suddenly shot out and pressed against Irene's collar bone. Her movement had been so fast, both Irene and I blinked in surprise. With her hand still on Irene, Maxine slowly got to her feet, pushing the naked woman back as she did so. They went a few paces before stopping. Maxine had to be half a foot shorter than Irene, and that was if the dominatrix wasn't wearing heels. Yet as she glared up at Irene, my friend didn't appear intimidated or vulnerable in any way.
"Oh-ho..." Irene murmured, looking Maxine over with her dark eyes. "I don't think you understand how I work, darling. I'm the one who's in control."
"Not here," Maxine replied coolly. "Not now."
At first, Irene seemed a bit irritated, but then her smile returned and she bit her lip for a moment.
"A woman after my own heart..." she whispered.
"Right, this should do it."
At the sound of John's voice, we all turned to see him coming into the room with a bowl full of water and a fabric napkin. He was staring down at the bowl in order to keep from spilling its contents. When he passed through the doorway, he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks. John gaped first at the naked woman, then at his sister who was holding a hand very close to Irene's breasts, then at me before looking down at the bowl again, blinking rapidly.
"I've missed something, haven't I?" John asked, glancing up again, but being careful to only look at me.
Irene stepped back and Maxine let her arm fall. The naked woman gestured toward the couch. "Please, sit down."
Maxine glared at her for a moment longer before coming back to my side. I fidgeted in my seat, uncertain about the strange unrest that was boiling in my gut. I'd seen naked women before, of course, and Irene was attractive to say the least; but I didn't think that it was her that had caused this sensation in me. I glanced toward Maxine as she sat beside me, so close that our legs were touching.
I knew Maxine didn't like people. She didn't like verbal conflict or drama. Yet, she had just put her hand on a naked woman to get her away from me and challenged her without even blinking. What had brought on that protectiveness in her?
"Oh, if you'd like some tea, I can call the maid," Irene added casually.
"I had some at the Palace," I told her, telling myself I'd deal with the Maxine situation later.
"I know." Irene sat in a nearby armchair and crossed her legs before folding her arms gracefully to obscure the view of her chest.
"Clearly," I replied and we stared at one another for several seconds. Her gaze was piercing, as if she were searching for any signs of weakness.
"I had tea, too, at the Palace, if anyone's interested," John said awkwardly.
I ignored him, scanning Irene's face and body, but not with the intent to admire it. I was searching for any hint or clue about her. However, as I ran my eyes across her, nothing stood out to me. I couldn't pinpoint a single thing on her—not a strange wrinkle in her features, not any oddities in her posture, nothing. She was the epitome of confidence.
Bewildered, I turned my eyes on John and examined him. I could tell by the wrinkles and discoloration on his shirt's neckline that he'd used it two days in a row. I could tell by the remnants of his facial hair that he'd used an electric shaver, not a blade. His jeans were neatly cupping the tops of his shoes (which were his nice pair) which told me that he had a date tonight with Sarah. The wrinkles around his right eyebrow showed the result of a strange tick he got whenever he thought too much about his sister, Harry, but it wasn't on his other eyebrow which told me he hadn't phoned her. Looking at his lower lip, I noticed small remnants of toothpaste, which meant that he got a new toothbrush he wasn't used to yet. Finally, the slight suggestion of circles beneath his eyes said that he'd spent the night out with Stamford, because Stamford was the only man who John would go drinking with.
Now I glanced over at Maxine. She'd always been a bit more difficult for me to read than her brother, but it had gotten easier for me over the past months living with her. The graphite smudges on her left hand told me she'd worked through the night on a sketch. Her right hand was clean, so that meant her ache was acting up again and she was giving it a rest. The slight lopsidedness to her hair said that she had fallen asleep on her desk again. Moving on to her body, I noticed how her back wasn't touching the sofa. She was sitting upright and her stone-blue eyes were fixated on Irene. The stiffness in her shoulders told me that she was angry; not just the frustration she would get from time to time, no, this was legitimate and potent anger. When I tried to dig deeper, I couldn't get much.
Maxine had been weird about this case from the start—no, since the moment we looked at Irene's photos. I didn't understand why she was so wound up about it; she usually loved going on cases, especially when there was a intriguing mystery to solve. In this case, it was figuring out why Irene told the royal family she had the photos, but didn't want anything for them.
In any case, my deductive abilities were still functional, even if I couldn't glean everything from Maxine. I looked back at Irene and narrowed my eyes, trying to see more from her. She merely smiled back at me.
I still couldn't get anything.
"D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Irene asked. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."
"You think I'm a bumbling office worker with a bleeding face?" I said, frowning.
"No, I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power," Irene replied. "In your case, it's yourself."
The tightness of my shirt was starting to get to me. I could still feel Maxine's leg against mine and glanced down at it warily as I unbuttoned the top two buttons on my shirt.
"Oh, and somebody loves you," Irene went on. "Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too." She glanced at John momentarily as Maxine stiffened beside me again.
"Er, actually, that was Maddie," John said.
"Was it?" Irene looked round and Maxine, brows shooting up. "Quite a arm you have. Color me impressed. Though, now it makes far more sense." She grinned.
"Could you put something on, please?" John begged. "Er, anything at all." He looked down at the cloth in his hands. "A napkin."
"Why?" Irene asked. "Are you feeling exposed?"
I got to my feet, not wanting to feel Maxine's warmth beside me for a moment; it was distracting me. "I don't think John knows where to look."
I grabbed my coat and shook it out before holding it out toward Irene. She ignored me at first, instead standing up and walking closer to John. The Doctor rolled his head on his neck uncomfortably and forced himself to maintain eye contact with her and not let his eyes drift south.
"No, I think he knows exactly where," Irene said.
"Cheap," Maxine whispered the word so softly, I barely heard her.
Irene looked toward her, raising a brow. "Sorry?"
Maxine met her eyes for a moment before loosing a long exhale through her nose. She looked annoyed and slightly tense.
"Cheap," she repeated, louder this time.
"Cheap?" I echoed.
Maxine shook her head, clearly irritated no-one understood what she meant. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, bracing her arms on her knees.
"Never mind," she said. "Just put on the coat." She gestured to Irene.
Sighing, Irene did as she was told. As she wrapped herself in my coat, she shrugged and looked at me.
"Not certain if it'd be effective to be honest. I'm not sure where you know where to look," she said.
"If I wanted to look at naked women, I'd borrow John's laptop," I replied.
"You do borrow my laptop," John pointed out.
"I confiscate it," I corrected.
"Well, never mind," Irene said as she went over the the sofa and sat down next to Maxine. "We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me—I need to know. How was it done?"
"What?" I said, frowning.
Irene began taking off her shoes. "The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?"
Maxine, John, and I all exchanged confused looks.
"That's not why I'm here," I said.
"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting away..." Irene said with a wave of her hand.
"That story's not been on the news yet," John pointed out. "How do you know about it?"
"I know one of the policemen," Irene explained. "Well, I know what he likes."
Maxine let out a small breath and got off the couch to start pacing.
"Oh." John went and sat down beside Irene, taking his sister's place. "And you like policemen?"
"I like detective stories," Irene said, "—and detectives. Brainy's the new sexy." She set her eyes on me.
I blinked and began to explain the case of the hiker, but her words wrapped around my head for a moment.
Sexy.
No-one had ever used that word to describe me.
"Positionofthecar..." I blabbered, trying to guess if she was serious or just trying to toy with me.
John, Maxine, and Irene all stared at me. I cleared my throat and began to pace, getting myself pulled back together. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."
Irene frowned slightly. "Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?"
"He wasn't," Maxine said before I could.
Surprised, I looked over at her. Her stone-blue eyes were lit with sudden understanding. It was an expression she carried when she figured something out, or got on the same page as me.
"You don't think it was murder?" Irene looked at Maxine now, raising a brow.
"Because—were you just listening to him?" Maxine gestured to me. "It's obvious."
"It is?" John said.
"Do you think it wasn't murder?" Irene asked me.
"I know it wasn't," I replied.
"How?" Irene queried.
"The same way I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room," I told her.
Maxine shot me a small look. Apparently, she wasn't completely on the same page as me, but I knew she was close.
"Okay, but how?" Irene demanded.
"So they are in this room." I smiled slightly. "Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in."
Irene and I stared intensely at one another for a moment, both attempting to bend the other. John got to his feet and gathered his bowl and the napkin before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Irene watching him go, her expression growing suspicious.
"Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart and one car," I said, beginning to pace again.
"Oh. I-I thought you were looking for the photos now," Irene admitted.
"No, no. Looking takes ages," I said. "I'm just going to find them but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass the time."
"You think she can figure it out?" Maxine said, folding her arms.
"And you have?" Irene countered.
Maxine kept her irascible gaze on the woman. "Sherlock tends to get finer details than I do. But I know the punchline."
Irene smiled at her disbelievingly.
Maxine, taking the bait, opened her mouth and lowered her arms, clearly intent on explaining the case. However, I held up a hand to stop her.
"Don't spoil it," I said.
Maxine rolled her eyes, but I knew she understood. We had to buy more time, and stringing Irene along was more beneficial to that goal than outright telling her the cause of the hiker's death.
"The driver's trying to fix his engine," I went on once I was sure Maxine would remain silent. "Getting nowhere. And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching birds?" I shared a knowing look with Maxine and she managed to smile a little. I shrugged to show my doubt and she gave an amending nod.
"I know it wasn't a bird now, obviously," she said with a touch of amusement.
"Any moment now, something's gonna happen," I said. "What?"
"The hiker's going to die," Irene said.
"No, that's the result," Maxine told her. "What't going to happen?"
"I don't understand." Irene appeared puzzled.
"Oh, well, try to," I said.
"Why?" Irene asked.
"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression," I said. "Stop boring me and think." Sarcastically, I added, "It's the new sexy."
Maxine grinned. It was the smile that I enjoyed seeing on her: the one that reached her eyes. Anytime she gave that smile because of something I said, it made me feel light on my feet. It was a sensation I had started growing an addiction to.
"The car's going to backfire," Irene finally said, not looking nearly as amused as Maxine.
"There's going to be a loud noise," I clarified.
"So, what?" Irene shrugged.
Maxine ran a hand through her curly ginger hair. "This is giving me a headache."
"Now you know how I feel the majority of the time," I told her before looking back at Irene. "Noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance..." I trailed off and hoped my timing was right and John didn't get caught up in something. Thankfully, I was correct and the smoke alarm began beeping insistently.
Irene instantly looked toward the large mirror over the fireplace. I turned to follow her gaze and smiled.
"Thank you," I said. "On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities."
I strode over to the fireplace and began to run my fingers underneath the mantlepiece. A switch was hidden beneath and upon pressing it, the mirror slid upward to reveal a small wall safe behind it. I turned and looked at Irene as she got to her feet.
"Really hope you don't have a baby in here," I said.
Maxine chuckled, and I smiled at her.
"All right John, you can turn it off now," I called toward the door.
For a moment, nothing happened, so I called again.
"I said you can turn it off now."
"Give me a minute," John's voice called back.
Another moment passed and Maxine glanced warily at the door.
"Maybe I should go help him?" she murmured. "Before the whole place burns down, that is."
However, the moment the words left her lips, the beeping stopped. Maxine shrugged at me in a gesture that said, "Well, guess he figured it out."
I nodded at her before turning to the safe and examining the number pad on the front of it.
"Hmm," I said. "Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used—that's quite clearly the three—but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read." I frowned at the numbers. "I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday—no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so..."
"I'd tell you the code right now, but you know what?" Irene smiled seductively. "I already have."
I frowned at her.
"Think," she said.
Before I could do so, the door burst open. Maxine, the quick fox that she was, instantly knelt and unsheathed her dagger from her boot. However, she couldn't even take a step before the man that had come in aimed a pistol at us.
"Hands behind your head," he demanded in an American accent. "Drop the weapon." He looked over at Irene. "On the floor. Keep it still."
A second man went to Irene and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her over toward John, who was being bundled in by a third man. They were all dressed in black suits and bore clean-cut hair.
"Sorry, Sherlock," John muttered, looking irritated. "Maxine, just drop the dagger, will you?"
As I raised my hands, I saw Maxine hesitating. Her eyes darted between each man and her knuckles grew white from her grip on her blade's hilt.
"Max," I said warningly.
"Drop the knife!" the first man barked, now fully aiming his pistol at Maxine.
She glared at him for a moment longer before her hand slowly released the dagger. It hit the floor with a dull thud near her foot.
"Kick it over," the man demanded.
Once again, Maxine hesitated, but this time, she moved on her own without more urging from me. She pressed her shoe to the blade and kicked it out. The dagger slid across the carpet and the man bent to pick it up while still keeping his gun trained on her. It had a long silencer placed over the muzzle, which told me that these people weren't keen on an audience.
"Ms. Adler, on the floor," the man said to Irene as he slid the dagger into a belt loop.
His colleagues shoved Irene to her knees beside John, who was already kneeling on the carpet with his hands behind his head. The man behind him had a pistol pointed at the back of his neck. Maxine eyed her brother with both fury and anxiety.
"You!" the man barked at her. "Up against the wall, over there." He gestured with his pistol to the wall next to the mantlepiece.
"Don't you want us on the floor as well?" I asked, wondering why they were singling out Maxine like that.
"No, sir, I want you to open the safe," the man told me. "I want her over there and out of the way because I don't like anyone who can move that fast."
Maxine quirked a small smirk as she went over to the wall and put her hands on it. I nearly rolled my eyes at her. Only Maxine would take a moment to be smug in this situation.
I locked my eyes on the man with the gun. "American. Interesting. Why would you care?"
"Sir, the safe, now, please," the man snapped.
"I don't know the code," I told him.
"We've been listening." The man kept his gun steadily aimed at Maxine's back. "She said she told you."
"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't." I glanced warily between John and Maxine.
"I'm assuming I missed something," the man said tightly. "From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes."
"For God's sake," John breathed. "She's the one who knows the code. Ask her."
"Yes, sir," the man said, looking back at John. "She's also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman."
"Mr. Holmes doesn't..." Irene began.
"Shut up," the man snarled. "One more word out of you—just one—and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship."
I glared at the man ferociously. Anyone who took pleasure in killing helpless hostages clearly didn't deserve to be walking free.
"All right, Mr. Holmes," the man said, adjusting his grip on his pistol. "On the count of three, I'm going to shoot Miss Watson."
"What?" John's head snapped up, but the man behind him pushed it back down with the butt of his gun.
"After that, if the safe still isn't open, I'll count to three again," the man aiming at Maxine said. "And Mr. Archer will shoot Doctor Watson."
"Neilson, are you sure?" Archer asked in a low voice. "We were meant to keep the casualties light."
"Don't question your orders, Archer," Neilson barked back.
"I don't have the code," I insisted as a rising panic began to bubble inside my gut.
"One." Neilson walked closer to Maxine, his hands steady and aiming the pistol at the back of her head.
"I don't know the code," I repeated, this time the strain could be heard in my voice.
"Two."
Neilson was now a mere pace away from Maxine. She kept her hands on the wall, but I could see her eyes darting side to side as she searched for a solution. I pictured her blood painting the white walls. I pictured her petite body crumpling to the floor. Nausea consumed my stomach and my heart pounded in my ears; I could feel my pulse in my neck.
"She didn't tell me," I said, then yelled, "I don't know it!"
"Three." Neilson pressed the muzzle to the back of Maxine's head where its tip disappeared in her locks of ginger hair.
"No, stop!" I shouted, voice cracking.
Apparently convinced by my tone of voice that I was ready to cooperate, Neilson took a small step back. Maxine loosed the breath she'd been holding and glanced warily at me. I gave her a look that I hoped said, "I won't let them hurt you," before turning toward the safe. Irene said she'd given me the code, but I couldn't think of anytime she'd mentioned a single number or referenced a date or anything.
Think, I begged myself. I stared at the digits with oil marks on them. 3, 2, and 4. Only three numbers were used in the six digit code. Small numbers, too. What had Irene done that stood out? What had she said?
I blinked as something occurred to me. I glanced back at Irene, in nothing but my coat. Letting out a small breath, I turned back and slowly reached out to the safe. I hit the number 3, the one I knew for certain was the first digit used. Then I hit 2. Hesitating for a moment, I closed my eyes. When they opened, I hit the number 2 and 4. I paused one more time, then punched in 3 and 4.
There was a beep, and the safe unlocked. Looking back, I saw Irene smiling in satisfaction as John sagged lower on his knees and shut his eyes. Maxine, however, barely changed in posture. She darted her eyes toward mine and they narrowed slightly. I instantly knew she realized what the numbers were.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Neilson said. "Open it please."
I twisted the button that opened the door, but paused before fully opening it. The man holding the gun to Maxine was still very close to her, and it was the same for John. This was a risk, and I knew it, but I had confidence in my friends. There wasn't really any other choice; I knew these men would kill us anyway.
"Vatican cameos," I said urgently.
The Watson siblings instantly leapt to action. John threw himself to the floor as Maxine twisted around, grabbed the man's pistol while thrusting his arm aside to disarm him. I opened the safe door and ducked down below the fireplace. Inside the safe, a pistol with a similar silencer on it as their attackers' guns was tripped and fired. The shot struck Archer—the guard who had been aiming at John—in the chest. As Archer fell, Irene got to her feet and viciously elbowed the third man in the groin.
Maxine, who now had the leader's pistol, savagely slammed the butt of it across Neilson's face. He slumped to the floor, out cold. Grinning in satisfaction, Maxine squatted down and grabbed her dagger before handing me the gun.
"You don't want it?" I asked her.
"I'm better with a blade," she said.
I shrugged and looked over to see that Irene had her guard's pistol and John was checking on Archer.
"D'you mind?" I said to the near-naked woman.
"Not at all," Irene replied before smacking the gun across her guard's face and knocking him unconscious. While she was distracted, I quickly reached into the safe to snag the mobile phone inside. As I pocketed it, Maxine came to my side and frowned down at the men.
"He's dead," John announced as he got up from where Archer laid.
"Thank you," Irene said to me. "You were very observant."
"Observant?" John frowned.
Maxine pursed her lips for a moment.
"I'm flattered," Irene went on.
"Don't be," I told her.
"Flattered?" John was still confused.
"Ugh..." Maxine groaned, shaking her head.
"Do you even understand the relations of the bedroom, Miss Watson?" Irene asked with a small laugh. "The body is just as much of a weapon as any gun. In your late twenties and yet you still act like such a child."
"I'd prefer being like a child than whatever you are," Maxine said. "Besides, my body is a weapon. Care to test the blade's edge?" She gestured with her dagger.
"Girls, please," John said as he grabbed Archer's gun and tucked it into the back of his pants.
"There'll be more of them," I added, looking between the two women with a frown. "They'll be keeping an eye on the building."
I grabbed Maxine by the elbow and dragged her after me. I didn't want to leave her alone with Irene when they both had a weapon. John quickly followed and we headed down the hall and back out into the street without bothering to see if Irene was coming with.
"We should call the police," John said as I released Maxine.
"Yes," I agreed before aiming the gun in the air and firing it five times. Somewhere nearby, tires screeched. "On their way."
"For God's sake!" John exclaimed.
I turned and went back into the house. It would be too dangerous being out in the open. I didn't know if these people had cars they could snag us in or snipers up on the roofs.
To John, I said, "Oh shut up. It's quick."
Back in the sitting room, Irene was standing near the safe. She turned to face me, not looking pleased.
Ignoring her for the moment, I looked over at John. "Check the rest of the house. See how they got in," I ordered.
John nodded, gave a warning look to Maxine who roll her eyes at him, then left the room. I pulled the phone I'd taken from the safe earlier out of my pocket and flipped it in the air before catching it.
"Well, that's the knighthood in the bag," I said.
"Ah. And that's mine," Irene said, holding out her hand.
Ignoring her, I flicked on the screen and saw it required a pass code. Though, the setup of the screen was rather odd. The words "I AM" were hovering over the four-character password entry while the word "LOCKED" was beneath it.
"So the photographs are on there, then," Maxine said, peering at the phone over my shoulder.
"I have copies, of course," Irene said swiftly.
"No you don't." I met her eyes. "You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."
Irene lowered her hand. "Who says I'm selling?"
I glanced around at the dead and unconscious bodies lying on the floor. "Well, why would they be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs."
"That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes," Irene said, her tone growing stern. "I'd die before I let you take it." She walked closer and held out her hand again. "It's my protection."
Before any of us could make another move, John's voice called out, "Sherlock!"
I pulled the phone back while staring unflinchingly into Irene's eyes. "It was."
Gesturing for Maxine to follow me, we turned and left the room. I heard Irene follow after us, but didn't bother paying her any attention for the moment. We went up a flight of steps and entered a bedroom by following John's voice. It was as elegant as the rest of the home, and the king sized bed probably saw more things than most adult websites.
John was kneeling beside the redheaded woman that had let us in. She was lying silently on the floor, eyes closed and body unmoving. The Doctor leaned down to put his ear near her mouth to check for breathing. Straightening up, he put his fingers to her neck for a pulse.
"Must have come this way," John said as he got to his feet.
"Clearly," I replied.
I spotted the bathroom adjoined to the room and went toward it, spotting the window inside. Behind me, I heard Irene's footsteps walk anxiously over to Kate. I was slightly surprised she felt concern for the woman.
"It's all right," John assured. "She's just out cold."
"Well, God knows she's used to that," Irene said. "There's a back door. Better check it, Doctor Watson."
I came out of the bathroom in time for John to say, "Sure," and leave the room. Maxine looked over Kate before her eyes met mine.
"At least they didn't resort to killing all witnesses," she said with a small shrug.
Irene stepped over to a dressing table, seemingly to check her reflection. I looked down at the phone again, trying to imagine what her password might be. Four characters, and it seemed letters were possible inputs.
"You're very calm," I noted as Maxine went toward the door to peek out into the hall for her brother.
Irene looked around at me, staring blankly.
"Well, your booby trap did just kill a man," I pointed out.
"He would have killed me," Irene replied calmly. "It was self defense in advance."
I looked back down at the phone and bit my lip. The last numbers she used as a passcode were quite... personal. However, I was going to guess that because this could use letters, she probably made use of them. Perhaps it was a combination. The smart thing to do would be to pick a random combination, nothing that could be guessed or deciphered.
Irene Adler wasn't exactly a random person, though. She liked the game. She liked the chase.
"Ah!"
Maxine's sudden gasp made my head snap up. I stared in something mixed with shock and horror as Irene slowly pulled out a needle from Maxine's neck.
"What did you just...?" Maxine turned to face Irene, one hand on the side of her neck, the other gripping her dagger at the ready.
Irene took a quick step back as Maxine stumbled and used the wall to brace herself. Whatever had been in that needle didn't want her on her feet.
"What did you do to her?" I demanded, starting to storm over to Irene while reaching for the gun I'd put in my pocket.
"Easy, Mr. Holmes." Irene aimed her own pistol toward Maxine. "The phone."
I narrowed my eyes at her, heat beginning to bubble up in my gut. I glanced between Maxine and Irene, frozen with my hand nearly at my pocket.
"You seem very fond of this little kitten," Irene said.
"You'd kill an innocent woman for this?" I asked, gesturing with the phone in my hand.
"I told you that phone is my life," Irene said.
"Sherlock..." Maxine mumbled, slowly sliding down the wall. "I... can't..."
"I don't have long, Mr. Holmes," Irene said. "Hand it over now or I shoot."
I bit my lip, eyes darting between her and Maxine, who was now barely keeping her eyes open, slumped on the floor. I wasn't certain if Irene would follow through with her threat, but I wasn't going to risk it. She had just had a man killed by her booby trap and didn't seem the least bit bothered. Gritting my teeth, I put the phone into her awaiting hand.
"Thank you," Irene said, pocketing it. "Now hold still."
"What?" I started to take a step back, but Irene realigned her aim at Maxine.
Clenching my jaw again, I remained where I was as Irene slowly walked over to me. From the same pocket she stashed the phone, she drew yet another syringe.
"Have a lot of those just stashed around, do you?" I asked dryly.
"Can't have you following me," Irene said with a small grin. "And I admit, a small part of my enjoys the idea of you under my power."
"Naturally," I said tightly as she plunged the needle into my arm.
The effects were quick. I felt a fog begin to flood my mind and staggered. Irene struck out her hand and slapped me hard across the face. Grunting in pain, I collapsed to the ground. Despite knowing that it was useless, I still tried to push myself up on all fours. Irene kicked me in the side, sending me on my back. She leered down at me with a smug expression.
"Now, tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me," Irene said. "They're not for blackmail, just for insurance. Besides, I might want to see her again."
I tried to get up again, but Irene pushed her foot against my chest. She snatched a riding crop from her bed and aimed the end down toward my face.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "It's been a pleasure. Don't spoil it." She gently stroke the end of the crop against my cheek. "This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you."
My vision began to blur. My head rested back against the ground as the energy fled my limbs.
"Goodnight, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," Irene said. She sounded like she was speaking from the other side of a waterfall.
"Jesus," John's voice came floating from the doorway. "What are you doing?"
"They'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure they don't choke on their own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse," Irene replied casually.
"What's this?" John demanded. I could made out his shape kneeling and picking something up. "What have you given them? Maxine! Sherlock!"
"They'll be fine," Irene assured. "I've used it on loads of my friends."
"Maddie, can you hear me?" John was kneeling again, over by the door where Maxine had collapsed. "Maxine!" Grunting in irritation, John moved over to me. I felt him grip my wrist for a pulse. "Sherlock, are you all right?"
"You know, I was wrong about him," Irene said. "He did know where to look."
John got to his feet. "For what?" His voice was tight with anger. "What are you talking about?"
"The key code to my safe," Irene replied.
"What was it?" John asked.
I saw her shape face me and I tried to get up again. My body barely raised millimeter off the ground and I fell back again.
"Shall I tell him?" Irene said playfully.
In the distance, the sound of police sirens echoed. Irene walked over to the bathroom and hopped up on the windowsill. I glared toward her figure, clinging desperately to the last threads of my consciousness.
"My measurements," Irene said.
With that, she gripped what looked like a thin rope and fell backward out of the window. John ran over to the window just as darkness swallowed me. However, as soon as the shadows wreathed me, the field where the hiker died bloomed before me. I sat in the driver's seat of Phil's car.
Just outside the window, Irene appeared. She gripped the car door and stared at me urgently.
"Got it!" she declared.
I blinked, confused by what she was getting at and made to get out of the car. However, just as I reached for the handle, Irene held up a finger.
"Oh, shush now," she said. "Don't get up. I'll do the talking."
She turned and walked toward the rear of the car to examine the exhaust pipe.
"So the car's about to backfire..." She stood up again and quite suddenly, we were both standing near the hiker in the field. "...and the hiker, he's staring at the sky. Now, you said he could be watching birds, but per your little banter with your kitten, that isn't the case, is it?"
Irene strode around to the front of the hiker. The man was frozen in time, staring up at the sky at a forty degree angle. She turned and followed his gaze. I looked up as well, knowing very well what I'd see.
"He was watching another kind of flying thing," Irene said. "The car backfires and the hiker turns to look..."
At her words, the hiker turned his head back toward the car, and at that same moment, an object flew in and struck him against the back of his head. The object was so fast, it was a mere blur and it was already gone by the time the hiker his the ground. As he fell, I recalled falling backward onto the floor of Irene's bedroom. I looked around, trying to get a glimpse of something ginger, but before I could find it, Irene and I were back at the crime scene.
"...which was a big mistake," Irene went on. She glanced back toward the road. "By the time the driver looks up, the hiker's already dead. What he doesn't see is what killed him because it's already being washed downstream."
Glancing back to the river, I spotted an object floating at its edge: a boomerang.
"An accomplished sportsman recently returned from foreign travel with... a boomerang," Irene murmured. "You got that from one look? Definitely the new sexy."
She turned and smiled at me.
"I..." I began, my voice distant and confused. I looked around, once again searching for some hint of ginger hair. "Max... where is she...?"
The crime scene fled away and I was falling backward again. I landed in something soft and warm sheets wrapped around me. My eyes fell closed.
"Always with the kitten..." Irene whispered. "Hush now."
She leaned over me; I could smell her rosy scent. An expensive perfume found in France.
"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm only returning your coat."
Her face came closer toward mine, but then she was gone. Then, with a jolt, I woke.
I was in my bedroom, alone. I still wore the clothes I'd been in when we went to Irene's place. With a slightly pounding head, I sat up a bit.
"John?" I called in a rasping voice. "Max?"
I shook my head. My vision was still blurry and the bed beneath me felt like it was a raft on a river.
"John!" I said louder. "Max!"
I threw my sheets off of me and pushed myself up onto my knees on the bed. My balance quickly fled and I fell forward and over the foot of the bed. Luckily, I managed to roll and landed on my tailbone rather than my head.
The door opened and John came in as I sat up, groaning.
"You okay?" John asked.
"How did I get here?" I demanded. "Where's Max?"
"Well, I don't suppose you remember much," John said. "You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you: I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone."
"Max," I repeated, grabbing John's arm.
"Upstairs, sleeping it off like you," John said. His expression pinched in anger. "How exactly did you let that happen to my sister?"
"Where is she?" I said, pushing myself to my feet.
"I just told you, upst—" John began.
"Not Max," I interjected. "The woman. That woman."
"What woman?" John blinked.
"The woman. The woman woman!" I said, stumbling around the room.
"What, Irene Adler?" John said. "She got away. No-one saw her."
Spotting my open window, I staggered to it and stared out at the street.
"She wasn't here, Sherlock," John insisted.
I turned around and fell down to the ground again. John yelped in surprise, but before he could come assist me, I pulled myself across the floor and peered under the bed before squinting toward the wardrobe.
"What are you...?" John said. "What...? No, no, no, no."
The Doctor gripped my arms and hauled me up to toss me on the bed. I laid there, face-down and unmoving for a moment.
"Back to bed," John said, covering me with a sheet as I turned my head to breath. "You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."
"Of course I'll be fine," I insisted blearily. "I am fine. I'm absolutely fine."
"Yes, you're great," John agreed. "Now I'll be next door if you need me."
"Why would I need you?" I asked.
"No reason at all," John sighed.
He began to leave the room, but I reached out toward him. "Wait, John."
John turned back toward me, perking a brow. I shook my head and rubbed my brow with a thumb and forefinger.
"Max—is Max all right?" I asked.
"I told you: she's upstairs in her bed," John said. "She's fine. Just like you." His face pinched a little in irritation. "Though, next time the two of you are in the same room as a known criminal that is capable of murder, do me a favor and keep an eye on her."
"On Max or the criminal?" I said blearily.
John shook his head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. I blinked when I spotted my coat hanging on the back of it: the same coat I lent to Irene Adler. I frowned at it, realizing that there had to be merit to the dream/hallucination I experienced. As I stared, the pocket lit up and my phone released an orgasmic female sigh.
Clumsily, I slid out of the bed and wobbled over to my coat. I nearly lost my balance a couple of times, but managed to stay on my feet the entire way. I pulled my phone from my pocket and braced myself against the wall as I activated it.
There was a text message waiting for me. It read: Till the next time, Mr. Holmes.
I peered at it for a long moment before looking around my room. How'd she get in? Through the window? I tossed my mobile onto my bed and started to stumble back toward it. There was no point in trying to figure it out now; I had to recover in order to think properly.
However, as I made my way to the bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror over by my dresser. I squinted and went closer to it, frowning at what I saw.
Just to the left of my mouth, there was a red, kiss-shaped mark.