Chapter IV – A Brand New Game
A/N: Aha! Finally! Sorry this took so long. The reason was because I actually had to figure out the case and how stuff tied into other stuff so that was a bit more complicated than I wanted it to be but…in any case; read on, dear readers, read on~
Out of all the preposterous things, Holmes paced. Out of all the irresponsible, outrageous things! Holmes paced again, then stopped and looked down, kicking at the books that lay at his feet until they flew across the room, almost as if they had wings. What in bloody hell was Watson thinking? Sure, he had technically invited the doctor back to Baker Street but really, coming here only to leave again with nothing such as a farewell! Holmes had managed to sleep a fair 12 hours with Watson forcing him into slumber, even if nightmares scattered his mind throughout the REM stages of his dozing. But then Watson was careless and just left! Holmes took a deep breath. And he was losing his touch, so unaware of his surroundings for no reason. How could this possibly affect him in such a way, what was the change in his environment that caused him to slip? Holmes glared at the books he had kicked; his brows were furrowed in constant contemplation. When the realization dawned upon him, very quickly as one might add, he scrambled around for his pipe. Diving over a few scattered cushions that lay strewn about the ground, he landed on his hands and knees a few inches from his dressing gown, which held the wooden pipe in one of its pockets. He lit up and fell back onto the cushions, sighing with relief as the effect slowly sunk into his lungs. Nibbling on the end of the pipe, Holmes tucked an arm behind his head. "No, not possible." He mumbled to himself. "There's no way I'm…" He stopped in mid sentence, a slight padding of footsteps were ascending the stairway. Holmes turned and looked up at the door as Mrs. Hudson entered the study.
"Oh, I see you're finally awake." Holmes jumped to his feet and began to climb over the rest of the mess towards her as she cleared away the untouched and cold tea.
"Brilliant deduction, Mrs. Hudson, so tell me, when did Watson leave? What time exactly?" Mrs. Hudson picked up the tray and looked at Holmes.
"I do believe sometime around ten thirty last night." Holmes nodded at her as she made her way out of his study. Once she had shut the door, Holmes listened as her feet met the soles of her shoes and pushed against the timber flooring in a decent of the stairway.
"Bloody bastard didn't stay long at all." He turned and decided to sprawl out on his couch. The detective's mind was in a whirl. 'Let's forget about Watson for now…' he thought as he settled.
As for a review on the case I "so called solved" the other day; I know that woman and she had a small dagger hidden in the folds of her parasol. He had one hidden up his sleeve, the two policemen were a part of a watch- out so if anyone were to call then they'd be the closest and make sure he'd be out of trouble. But for what purpose? Holmes's face scrunched slightly as he played back the scene in his head. Looking closer, he saw the face of the bread woman…of course. Oh so brilliant, this was getting exiting. How wonderful. Now, what was she doing now? What was she up to? And what was the purpose of that scene? Clearly it was planned; the stagecoach incident would get people away so they could perhaps exchange something? Slip something to each other before…?
Wait up, rewind, and let's try this again.
The scene played through Holmes's head once again and he opened his eyes with a slight smile to himself.
Brilliant. He leapt off the couch and scrambled over to the door, grabbing Watson's clothing and his own coat. He pulled his coat and a hat on as he donned the stairs, shouting through the flat. "Mrs. Hudson! The game is now afoot!" and thus, slamming the rear door behind him.
Disregarding most of the average happenings, Holmes practically ran to Watson's home. Reaching his doorstep, Holmes paused and listened for a moment before looking down at the lock. He scoffed to himself. "Really Watson, you never learn." A small pin that had sat in his pocket emerged and fit itself perfectly into Watson's door. Entering, he looked around. No be to be seen. It was about eleven now. Watson really should be awake, even if the reluctantly imaginable had occurred. Holmes hung Watson's coat and his own on the rack next to the door and ascended the stairs up to Watson's study. Praying that he be in there and not the other ridiculous place, he opened the door to the doctor leaning over his desk, appearing to be entranced in paperwork. However, a slight snore shook the doctor's body and Holmes smirked to himself. Straightening his posture, he closed the door behind him and wrapped his hands together behind his back.
"Always good to see you, Watson." He stated, looking around the room, almost uninterested. Watson jerked awake, sending papers flying.
"Holmes!" He coughed and stood up, clambering over the corner of the desk and the arm of the chair, in order to stand beside the desk. He looked at Holmes like he was dreaming.
"Oh you're very much awake." Holmes coughed and began to inspect various components of the room surrounding them. "Good"
"I wasn't sleeping, Holmes." Holmes ripped a book of the shelf and began shuffling through it.
"Oh, no of course you weren't. You were just resting your eyes." Watson scowled at the broad shoulders that were Sherlock Holmes ruffling through his personals…as always. Holmes snapped the book shut and returned it to the shelf, then turned to face Watson.
"I believe I have a new game for us."
"Holmes, you know I don't…"
"Believe me Watson, I just need you…" Their voices rose higher as they spoke over each other. "To do me a favour…"
"I have no interest in…"
"JUST this one." Holmes emphasized. Watson fell silent and looked at him curiously. "Just this one and I'll never ask for you again." Holmes looked genuinely at Watson for a moment.
"Yes, of course, then there'll be just one more and just one more! Sherlock you really can't seem to function well without me, can you?" Holmes looked at the doctor with surprise. He shook his head slightly, dark waves ruffling with motion. Taking a step back, the detective was, for once, genuinely surprised.
"You…Watson, my dear Watson, you are…" The sound of the door's creak cut Holmes off. He swung around to face the intruder and scowled.
Mary stood in the doorway. Her lip tightened at the sight of Holmes. Holmes turned rapidly back to Watson and said "You are something different." His sight held with Watson's. "This is important. I may have this case solved." Watson shook his head,
"No, no. Holmes, if you had this case solved you wouldn't need my assistance. Just look at how many you've solved on your own!" Holmes kept repeating Watson's name as he scolded him. "If you really need me then it isn't a real case, you are a perfectly capable, grown man, Holmes. You…"
"John." Holmes finally said firmly. Watson fixated his gaze, unblinking, on the detective. "I think she faked her death." Watson took a deep breath through his nose and shifted his weight slightly.
"She? Holmes, you know what that means…"
"Yes, I know." The two continued to act like they were the only people in the room. To Holmes, they were the only people who mattered. Watson sighed again and ran a hand over his face. He paced back to the desk and sat down, sighing into the chair.
"The last time, Holmes. The last one." Holmes nodded,
"Of course."
"And then I will hear none of this. Are we clear?" Holmes now faced Watson over the desk and he whispered.
"Crystal." Watson nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer, and stood up.
"Mary, dear" She looked up from the doorway, her expression had morphed into a full-on frown, but instantly turned into a lighthearted, but painful, grin.
"Yes?"
"I'll be out for a bit, might be home late tonight." Holmes turned respectively between the two and murmured between his teeth as Watson spoke;
"Or not at all." Before smiling to Mary. Watson shot eye daggers at Holmes, as if psychologically telling him to behave. Holmes fell silent.
"Don't forget we're leaving soon, love." Mary reminded Watson, who groaned and nodded.
"Yes, of course." He responded. Watson stood up and walked over to Mary to lightly kiss her cheek. "I'll be off now and back by then." He looked over at Holmes and beckoned him through the doorway like a child or a puppy following his master. Holmes grumbled internally as he walked through the door, passing Mary and falling into step behind Watson as they reached the bottom of the stairs. 'I'm a leader, not a follower.' The duo donned their coats and stepped out onto the streets. Looking one way, then the other, Holmes smoothly slid in front of Watson and led him towards the very centre of town. Watson murmured through his teeth at Holmes.
"So you really think…?"
"I know, Watson. I saw her face."
"You can never trust what you see."
"I usually don't."
"So you know for sure?"
"Yes." Watson sighed as they continued, Holmes leading.
"Irene Adler…what could she be up to?"