"And the door was locked until late in the afternoon!" squeaked Mrs. Hudson as she placed a jar full of biscuits on the table, grinning ear to ear.
Sherlock watched as Lizzie munched on the biscuits happily, not noticing John and Mary's amused smiles.
Mrs. Hudson handed the couple their cup of tea. "My ceiling was creaking the entire night, I'm telling you. Oh how I missed the time when Frank and I used to spend the night away, our..."
"Erm... Mrs. Hudson, Lizzie's here. I think it's best not to talk about... You know..." Mary mused, almost giggling. Mrs. Hudson put a hand on her lips, nodding.
"I wanna know, mummy! What is it?" Lizzie said, her green eyes widening. Mary just smiled, shaking her head.
"Adorable little thing, aren't you?" Mrs. Hudson said, ruffling Lizzie's blond head. The child smiled, dimples surfacing on her pink cheeks.
Sherlock focused on the child, his fondness over her growing. Such wonder, a child's mind is-but then he was never much when he was one.
His mind flew from one thought to the next, to John and Mary being exceptional people and parents, to Irene Adler-the object of his... affections. The idea of Irene getting married in almost less than a month's time despite the lack of her commitment disturbed the hollows of his mind.
If this case stretches longer, it is inevitable that he marriage will push through. Then Irene and Godfrey Norton will have to have children. She said that she doesn't want children, but her role as Godfrey's wife is enough assurance.
He envisioned it-versions of Elizabeth, only from a different set of parents. If there's one thing he learned from being Elizabeth's godfather, there is something in a child that makes you feel attached. And it scared him that him and Irene would never be together, that once she has children, they would be her priority-and of course, her husband.
When did he become such a romantic anyway? Ugh. Just thinking about that word disgusts him. Irene Adler. The Woman. This was their mistake.
She would one day wither away as Lucia Norton-out of his grasp forevermore.
For two weeks they didn't see each other, their only contact would be the anonymous encrypted messages sent on his blog, containing information about what kind of data Albert's clients got a hold of and how to retrieve it.
Mycroft was somehow pleased at how the case was progressing.
/
"Brother mine." Mycroft said, prancing proudly inside his flat.
"I already told you that John will bring this to you." Sherlock said, his voice cold, eyes not leaving his microscope.
Mycroft smiled sourly. "Well, such information needs to be handled personally."
Sherlock stared at his brother, his eyes piercing. "I know about your little game, Mycroft. Don't look so smug."
"I know." Mycroft replied. "You and Irene Adler are conspiring, totally against my instructions. As expected."
"Don't act like that's your masterplan." Sherlock spat. "You just wanted to play us like your little pawns. And I thought you have no freetime at hand."
Mycroft sat across his brother, his fingers laced together. "You should be thanking me. I brought her back."
"To danger. I bet you love this." Sherlock replied.
Mycroft scoffed. "Think as you will, brother dear. I did what is right."
"You just wanted to prove you can outsmart everyone." Sherlock hissed.
"Hm." Mycroft simply replied, walking out the door as he slid the file folder in his coat pocket.
/
"The engagement party." He murmured, his eyes adjusting to the dim room. Hours had already passed and he was now alone. As he shuffled, he saw a crisp piece of paper on his armrest.
Seeing the smooth curves of Mary's handwriting, he read the note: Good luck tonight, Sherlock! Get your lady back, okay? Love from John, Mary and Lizzie xx
He smiled but not quite reaching his eyes. As agreed, Sherlock would be there at the party to monitor the Nortons. Despite their old arrangement, he persuaded Irene that he would still attend functions involving the Nortons and their circle, also to keep an eye on her.
Giving out a sigh, Sherlock headed to the bathroom to prepare for the party, his tux waiting to be worn.
/
The bright halls glistened under the light of the crystal chandeliers, every guest dressed to their best. Sherlock scanned the area, his eyes and mind calculating every visitor's action. Similar attendees from the masquerade ball with only a couple of exceptions. At last, his eyes rested on Irene, her gold dress standing out in the crowd. The crinkle in her eyes seemed so genuine as she laughed at something Godfrey had said, Albert Norton among their company. Despite knowing that it was all an act, Sherlock felt a pit in his stomach.
Irene turned and their eyes met, a secret understanding shared in a flicker of a moment. Godfrey followed his fiancée's gaze trail and his eyes lit. Sherlock faked a smile as he saw Godfrey cross the crowd to greet him, Irene and Albert at his heel.
"Mr. Holmes! Good of you to join us again!" Godfrey said, taking Sherlock's hand and shaking it fervently. Albert gave Sherlock a knowing smile.
"Oh this is my father, Alb-"
"We've met." Sherlock said, taking Mr. Norton's hand. They were both studying each other closely, like one of them might shout fire at any moment. Irene cleared her throat, her hand on Godfrey's arm.
"Isn't that lovely, dear?" Irene mused.
"Lovely indeed." Albert hissed with a sardonic smile, tapping his son by the shoulder. "Do you mind if I take my son away for a while, Lucia? I have some people I would introduce him to. You wouldn't mind keeping Mr. Holmes company, do you?"
"But..." Godfrey started but his father dragged him away.
"That bastard." Irene hissed.
"He knows we're onto him. I can't tell how much he knows of your involvement but just be cautious of him." Sherlock whispered back.
A waiter passed by them and Sherlock called his attention. "Champagne?" he asked Irene.
Irene hesitated but took a glass.
"Something's bothering you." Sherlock said, taking a sip.
Irene stared at him, her mind in mixed opinion on whether or not he should tell him of her...condition. She had never been with any other man after him-any other man every since they parted ways four years ago so she was sure the responsibility lies between them. She was just not sure how to break it to him.
The ex-dominatrix who almost put a nation to its knees and a high-functioning sociopath who was under probation for murder would not be good credentials to put in a parenting curriculum vitae.
"Pretend to laugh and after that tell me what's going on." Sherlock whispered, a fake smile plastered in his face. Irene did as she was told, pretending to have a harmless conversation with the detective.
"Irene..." Sherlock hissed once more as Irene continued to retain her disturbed expression.
Giving out a soft sigh, Irene stared Sherlock in the eye, her hands trembling and her heart pounding loud in her chest. "Sherlock... I-I..."
CLING! CLING! CLING!
The sound of someone tapping a wineglass echoed across the hall. Godfrey Norton stood on the small stage made for the band, a wide grin on his face as he held the microphone.
"I have an important announcement to make." he said.
Sherlock eyed Irene, who looked surprised and distraught at the same time. Her eyes held a look of horror, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched her stomach. Is she going to throw up? Sherlock thought.
"First off, I would like to apologise to my fiancée who I will also surprise with what I have to say... Sorry, love. If you would please join me onstage." Godfrey said, his hand extending towards Irene's direction.
Irene put on a fake, radiant smile and gave Sherlock one last glance before heading to the stage, confusion written all over her eyes.
"Love is something that shouldn't wait so long. It should be seized when the opportune moment rises, never giving it an option to flee. The preparations are set so why wait? The wedding will be moved earlier-a week from now to be exact. As advised by my father, I shouldn't give a woman like Lucia a chance to escape me." Godfrey announced, taking Irene in his arms and giving her a kiss.
When he pulled away, Irene smiled the best she can, taking the microphone. "I-I don't know what to say."
"I do! Congratulations to my son and his bride to be!" Mr. Norton shouted, raising his wine glass with his eyes sweeping from Irene to Sherlock, a malicious smile stretched on his face.