Hello all my lovely readers, my deepest apologies that I haven't updated in a loooong time, but I have had a few very serious family problems that took priority in my life. But as usual I'd like to thank eveyone who reviewed, favourited and subscribed. I hope you all still want to read this! Thank you for your patience you lovely people!
"SHE'S WHERE HOLMES?" Shouted Doctor John Watson, his temper so high it was bubbling over his normally calm façade. "Watson, calm down, and think." the detective mumbled, his voice thick with guilt. "Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down? that's my sister! my precious baby sister and you … YOU lost her, to a man that has been stalking her and killed her best friend." Watson slumped into a chair by the fire, his blue eyes welling with tears as he ran his hands over his face, "You lost her." he finished in a whisper, unknowingly instilling the guilt deeper into Holmes' heart. "I'm sorry Watson. We'll find the woman." Watson, was too sorrowful to even reprimand his friend, just getting up and leaving the room, only to return moments later a large sepia photograph of Bonnie clutched in his hand. "You better Holmes, you better." John sniffed as he placed the photograph on the mantle piece.
Doctor John Watson pulled himself out of his bed and studied his reflection in the mirror, saddened by the face that looked back at him, big purple bags beneath his eyes and a thick layer of light brown stubble adorned his jaw and chin. A low murmur of voices rose through the floorboards, making him raise an eyebrow in curiosity, pull on his dressing gown and head down the stairs and into the living room. "Ah, my dear Watson. I take it you remember my brother Mycroft?" Holmes called from his chair beside the window, not even turning to face the other occupants of the room, his eyes fixed on the gloomy London surroundings through the thick panes of glass, one hand cradling his chin, the other curling an unknown item to his chest. "Indeed I do, good morning Mycroft." The portly, sandy haired man nodded at him in greeting, "hello Doctor. I trust you are well? Our last assignation is long past." Watson took the free chair beside Mycroft Holmes and lit a cigarette from the silver case on a table near by. "I am as well as to be expected. I take it you are not here on a personal call, you have a determined expression on your face." The older man harrumphed and adjusted his bulk in the leather arm chair, "Indeed I am not John, there has been a considerable amount of thefts around the docklands area that has been brought to not only my attention but that of HRH the Prince of Wales also, but my story seems to be falling on deaf ears this morning, it appears Sherlock is in no mood to listen presently." instead of replying Watson just hummed his disapproval and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence, only being broken by Sherlock some minutes later, who turned his head sharply towards the door, listening intently, "Ah, I believe I hear Mrs Hudson's weary tread upon the stairs, and judging by her ritualistic stop on the eighth step, she comes bearing tea. Watson, would you be good enough to get the door?" slowly, he lit his pipe, a thick black cloud of smoke engulfing him as he went back to gazing out the window.
The doctor rolled his eyes and hoisted himself up from his chair and opened the door just as a heavily laden down Mrs Hudson, barrelled her way into the room. "Tea, gentlemen. Doctor, Mr Holmes" She asked, referring to the older Holmes brother, ignoring the detective by the window. "Would you like breakfast? Toast and eggs maybe?" Watson smiled and took the tray from her arms, answering over his shoulder. "That would be splendid Mrs H, thank you. We'll have it up here though I think." the old land lady nodded graciously leaving the room without a word. "Are you aware of the reason my brother is being so complaisant this morning?" Mycroft wheezed, taking the offered cup of tea from John's hand. "He has said barely a word to me since I arrived. Most uncommon, even with his petulant manner." Watson just raised his eyebrows and cast his gaze over to the detective who was still cloaked in a thick haze of smog, eyes still glued to the exterior, "He is in the middle of an extremely delicate case, which appears to have, for now at least, got the better of him." The larger man belted out a loud raucous chortle, "A case that has the better of the great Sherlock Holmes? Is this possible? A case involving a ghost and a deck of playing cards?" Watson gave a small wry smile, trying to forgive Mycroft's insensitive humour, "Uh, no, A case involving my baby sister Bonnie. I trusted him to take her to the opera last night and she vanished. I believe he may be thinking of a way to find her again, before she is no longer living." Mycroft fell silent, his round face turning deathly grey upon hearing the doctor's sad news. "Well that is damned unfortunate. My condolences John, but I'm sure my brother will find a way to prevail. As important as my business may be, I fear yours is far more urgent, so as soon as breakfast is finished I shall be out of your way." Watson just pursed his lips and sipped his tea.
"Urg … Ow." moaned Bonnie as she clutched her head, her fingernails digging painfully into her scalp. She winced at the stinging, the skin below her eyes tight with leftover salt from her dried tears. "Where am I?" she mused to herself, coughing on the thick layer of yellow clay dust that coated the dirty stone floor, and examining the stained material of her expensive black and white dress, "This dress was expensive, unbelievable." she growled dropping the silk and heaving a sigh. "You still look beautiful, nothing could tarnish your beauty Bonnie … I always thought." came a husky voice from the shadow surrounding the corners of the room. The small dark haired woman sucked in a deep mouthful of air and pulled herself up to stand against the dew drenched wall, her head held high defiantly as she shook the waves of fear that rocked her body away, determined to show her captor that she was confident and calm in the situation. "I'm damn sure muck and grease on my face and my dress will dampen my supposed beauty … and I feel my hair being matted with blood is not helping." She countered, her voice fighting to display her strength. "Oh But my dear girl, how else would I get you away from that detective whose every word both you and your brother hang off." Bonnie huffed loudly and wiped her sweaty palms on the skirts of her ruined dress. "Holmes is a better man than you'll ever be." she hissed, just loud enough for her hidden assailant to hear, his spine straightening suddenly with the spite filled insult. "Well, you better get used to it Miss Watson, as you're going no where … you're mine now, until you see what you've been missing for all these years past, that your heart really belongs to me." Bonnie shook her head defiantly and narrowed her eyes in disdain, "Not in a hundred years" She breathed, digging her fingers into palms so hard drips of blood trailed over her hands.
"Holmes, its very tedious being in a room with you when not a word has left your lips all day." Watson groaned, folding his paper and narrowing his eyes at the detective, who hadn't moved from his spot by the window. "I am thinking Watson … reviewing the data in my mind."
"hmm have you no leads?" The doctor asked, uneasily rubbing his forehead, a worried expression etched onto his handsome face. His dark haired companion sighed, and closed his eyes in frustration, "Nothing solid, nothing that can lead me to the woman's whereabouts." his voice coming out in almost a whisper. Watson gritted his teeth, at his friends rude referral to his sister, and sipped at his tumbler of brandy. "I'm sure something will come around soon, my friend, don't despair."
A laboured set of footsteps making their way up the stairs, made the two men's attentions turn to the heavy wooden door as it was pushed open by Mrs Hudson, a letter held tightly in her frail hand, "A letter for you Mr Holmes." Watson rose from his seat and accepted the envelope, as his eyes took in the elaborate black scripture on the front, "Holmes!" he exclaimed, an urgent look in his eyes, "This is Bonnie's writing."