Hello All! thank you for supporting my story still, im glad you like it. Here's the next one ... but I warn you, from here on in, its going to get pretty heavy! ha ha! Special thanks to SPEEDIE22 AND Lady Wesker for reviewing! thank you guys! :)
Disclaimer: Unfortunatly I don't own the deductive genius! I just like to drool at him! xx
Bonnie wiped a dainty hand across her forehead removing the thin layer of sweat that had formed from working in the hot kitchen. "Oh thank you for your help dear, it was greatly appreciated. Could you call the good doctor and that … that infuriating man … who has been oddly quiet for the past few hours… for dinner." Mrs Hudson said with a weary smile, helping the younger woman remove her now dirtied apron. "No problem Mrs Hudson." The tiny brunette said, making her way out of the kitchen, chuckling quietly to herself hearing the older woman mumbling away to herself about a storm brewing outside.
Bonnie knocked gently on the living room door and waited for her brother's muffled call of "come in" before pushing the heavy panel and poking her head into the toasty room, a look of surprise etched into her face when she found John sat alone in the room reading a book by candlelight. "John dinner is on the table. Where is Mr Holmes? I have to let him know too." The doctor slowly stood from his seat, heavily leaning on his cane, and limping towards her, "Holmes isn't here Bon-Bon, he left some hours ago in a temper. The great detective does not like to be called on his social misdemeanours." Bonnie felt herself scowl and crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed that her time had been wasted. "But Mrs Hudson and I worked so hard on this dinner all evening! I just wanted it to be a thank you to you both for helping me." She turned away, fighting back a few tears that made her eyes and nose sting. "Wait … John, did you just call me Bon-Bon? You've not called me that since we were young." She smiled gently, pushing the tears back and her heart swelling in her chest as her brother reached her and wrapped his arms around her in a strong embrace and pressed a kiss into her now messily held back soft hair. "Don't worry about Holmes Bon, I'll enjoy the dinner you've worked so hard to make." He grabbed her hand and led her back into the dining room, complaining about how the smell of freshly cooked food was making his stomach rumble.
"Evenin' Mr Holmes" called Charlie the bartender when a slightly fumbling Sherlock Holmes wound his way down the rickety wooden steps leading to the upper rooms of "The Green Clover Tavern" where the detective had a rented room. "Evening Charlie, Do you have that Tullamore whisky down there?" The small Irishman chuckled and ducked below the old, worn bar reappearing seconds later a brown whisky bottle clenched firmly in his pudgy hand, "Had it shipped o'er just for you Mr Holmes." Holmes nodded and accepted the bottle from Charlie, exchanging it with a few gold coins, before pulling the cork from the glass neck with his teeth and knocking an amount of the amber liquid down his throat, the liquor burning a trail down to his stomach. "Something certainly has you riled up Mr Holmes. Anything ol' Charlie can do for ye?" Sherlock leaned heavily on the bar top and heaved a laboured sigh. "Nothing trivial, Charlie. Nothing a boxing match couldn't sort out. I need a vent Charlie, to get my mind back on the task at hand. No man made his way in the world, especially in my profession when their mind is being hounded by the mere thought of a woman. I am having a lapse in my sane mind that is all."
Charlie chuckled and listened to the detective as he brooded over the young woman he mentioned. It was a shock to Charlie, to hear Holmes mind was being clouded by a woman, 'She must be some woman' He thought to himself but instead he just dried another glass tankard and reassured the dishevelled man before him, "Aye, I'm sure you're right Mr Holmes."
Bonnie shivered in her armchair, closing her book and leaning her cheek on the back of her hand, her dark eyes watching her brother intently as he fiddled with numerous little brown and green pill bottles and their contents, the rumbling thunder shook the rickety old window panes. The siblings sat in a comfortable silence, when the front door's old letter box rattled. "Miss Watson, another letter for you." Mrs Hudson said bustling into the living room the letter held in her hand. "I'll take that Mrs Hudson, thank you." Watson said taking the envelope and tearing it open, reading the short lines of text inside out loud.
Blue was always a flattering colour on you … but that friend of yours … her mouth will get her in trouble one of these days …
Watson's lips set into a hard line as his hand scrunched the letter into a ball in fury and throwing it onto the coffee table in disgust. Bonnie gripped the arm rests of her chair, her fingers almost ripping the material away from the wood and her skin turning a ghostly shade of white. "We need to find Holmes, now." Watson said, walking as fast as he could to the door, pulling on his coat and hat and beckoning Bonnie to follow him, holding out her black velvet cloak for her. "Where will Mr Holmes be at this hour? And in this storm?" she asked, disgruntled as she pulled the hood up to shadow her face. As they stepped out into the darkness of Baker Street, Watson held firmly onto her hand. "I know exactly where he will be. Let's not tarry, it will only put you in more danger my dear."
Holmes leaned against the side of the fighting pit, and scrubbed a large, slightly dirty hand over his sweat and blood covered face, pushing the wet curls off of his forehead. His chest heaved as he watched the giant of a man pacing around on the other side of the pit, his exposed torso as covered in as much sweat and blood as Holmes' own. The crowd roared and shouted in a drunken stupor, making his head spin, his eyes only fixed on the face of his opponent as he thought out his next movements. – Throw bottle into crowd, distract target – Attempt body shot and block blind elbow jab – heel kick to ribs, spin and open hand slice to Adam's apple and voice box – duck wild punch and fit to patella, break right knee – floating blow to ribs, wavering balance – final heel kick to diaphragm – In Summary … three cracked ribs, two broken, torn voice box, splintered knee, punctured stomach cavity … physical recovery … nine months … psychological recovery … highly unlikely. Holmes pushed himself off of the wall and brought his brown whisky bottle up to his lips, and pondered at it momentarily before lifting it above his head and throwing it into the crowd, it's smash covered by the uproar of the audience. Bringing his arm up the detective smashed his fist into his challenger's abdomen, twisting beneath the flailing arms Holmes shot one arm up, grabbing the blow that was coming his way and using the limb to pull himself up, he slammed a sharp open palmed slap to the man's throat before ducking once again and slamming his fist into the man's right knee earning a satisfied crack from the bone. Standing back up he threw a punch to the already cracked ribs, and was knocked of his guard by a loud feminine draw of breath and a waft of expensive perfume hit his nose.
Holmes looked to the side, scanning the faces of the crowds and finally settling on the faces of a stern looking Watson and a ghostly pale looking Bonnie, her flesh having turned an unusual shade of translucent white, and her big brown eyes had glazed over as her body swayed precariously until she passed out, her body falling limp into her brother's outstretched arms. Holmes' gut reaction was to leap over the side of the pit and come to her aid, an unusual feeling for him, one he had only ever felt with Irene, but as he placed his hands on the pit's wooden rim, ready to vault over the top, he felt a punch collide with the side of his head, sending his body crashing to the dusty floor. A snarl plastered on his face Holmes got up and shook his head continuing his assault on his opponent, a heel kick to his chest sending his body flying backwards and knocking him out.