I'm back finally with another chapter...I am sorry that it has been so long. I've actually been able to write quite a bit this weekend and have updated a few other stories, so yay! Thanks to all of you who have hung around with me and been so patient with me!

I do want to warn you...some parts of this chapter will not be easy to read, as it was not easy to write. It gets darker before it gets lighter...but it will get lighter...hang in there with me!

Thanks to all of you again for not giving up on me :)

Not beta'd...sorry for any boo boo's!

"What do you mean you're trying to help us?" Jim demanded. "By getting raped or beaten?'

"I know what I'm doing Jim," Irene said defensively. "I am different from Charles' other girls be…"

"You are not one of his girls," Jim snapped. "None of the poor women in this wretched place belong to that piece of shit."

"Will you listen to me?" Irene snapped back. "I am different because I came to him and offered him my services as a dancer. He believes me to be independently wealthy and that I just happen to like sex. I pay him to dance in his club and none of the men touch me unless I want them too. You just offered him one hundred thousand pounds that you did not need to offer him."

"And you believe that this man would allow you to dance and not be touched?" Jim asked incredulously. "Are you that naive?"

"Why are you so angry?" she asked. "I am only trying to help you all end this man sooner rather than later. Do you think this is easy for Molly or Janine? The sooner this is over, the sooner they will be able to move on with their lives and not live in fear."

"Molly knows that Sherlock is not an evil man, Irene," Jim said. "He told her and Henry is very careful with Janine. He keeps her away from Charles so that he does not have to lie and treat her badly in front of him."

"Well regardless, I have already heard and seen many things, Jim," she said. "I have a list of names and…"

"Tell me the names," Jim said cutting her off. "Write them down for me, please." He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and wrote the names down on a piece of paper her handed her. She wrote down five names and gave him the paper. He quickly skimmed it and nodded, folding it and putting it in his pocket.

"Thank you Irene," he said. "Now understand this, your part in this farce has changed. You have nothing else to do with this do you understand? As far as Sir Charles is concerned you are mine. You will only dance on nights that I am here."

"But the men talk to me when they are drunk," she argued. "I could get so much more information for Mycroft and…"

"No," Jim said. "You will have no more contact with those men."

"Sherlock, Henry," Charles began. "I have some most exciting news. I am in talks to take my clubs across Europe and even overseas. There is a fortune to be made and an endless supply of whores all over the world. I have been speaking to several men of business in the hopes of perhaps finding those who would like to go into business with me."

Sherlock leaned closer to Charles. "Indeed," he said, feigning interest. "And are you extending the offer to myself and Sir Henry?"

Charles gulped his drink and sat the glass down. "It does take a certain amount of capital to get clubs such as these up and running. There are buildings to purchase, alcohol licenses to be bought, and of course it takes all sorts of people to make a club such as this work. You have to have capital to keep people on your payroll…there are police to be paid off, politicians to be bribed to keep a blind eye. There are workmen to be paid…those who actually go out and find the sluts."

"I see," Henry said. "And how much capital would one have to have to become a part of this wonderful organization?"

Charles shrugged. "The narcotics that keep the bitches compliant are not cheap and I have to import them from the orient. Everything has a price you understand. I supply the best liquor money can buy. I have opium bars for those who chose to partake and of course, the supplies that are available in the rooms do not come cheap. My paddles are made from the finest woods and my straps are made from the best imported leather."

"How much money, Charles?" Sherlock pressed.

Charles laughed. "I see there is not beating around the bush with you, Sherlock. One hundred thousand pounds to buy into my clubs. You will become an equal partner and of course, have first choice of any pussy that comes in. I do sometimes have high class pussy, you know gentleman. I have had two men of very prominent position sell me their own daughters."

"One hundred thousand pounds is a bit steep," Henry remarked drily.

"Well it can get costly when the bitches die…I have to pay to have their filthy bodies taken out and buried only God knows where. As I said, it can get costly to find new girls. It takes a certain kind of man to snatch a random girl from the streets, you know."

"I imagine so," Henry said. "Alright, I will have a check sent to you from my estate tomorrow morning."

Charles laughed robustly and clapped his hands together. "This is most gratifying news," he said before turning to Sherlock. "And you, Sherlock?"

"I will write you a check tonight Sir Charles," Sherlock said, pulling his check book from his breast pocket.

"Wonderful!" Charles shouted. "Let us celebrate with another drink, shall we gentlemen?" Charles looked around the room and saw one of the bar maids. "You…whore…come here," he shouted.

A young fair haired girl approached. She trembled so terribly that Henry was afraid she might faint. "Stupid girl," Charles spat. "Bring us whiskeys all around."

"Yes sir," she said softly and went away to do as he said. She came back a few moments later with the drinks. She was so frightened of Charles that her hands shook as she sat the drinks on the table. When she sat Henry's down, she pulled her hand back so quickly, she spilled the drink on him.

Henry had only a second to make eye contact with Sherlock who gave him a look as if to say that he had better react in away to please Sir Charles.

"Stupid bitch," Henry roared, jumping up from the table and grabbing the girl roughly by her arm. "You clumsy little beast."

"I apologize for this outrage," Charles said quickly. "She is new and a most useless creature she is. Marcus, bring me my crop."

The man behind the bar came quickly with the crop and handed it to Charles. Charles grabbed the girl from Henry and held the crop out to him. "I will hold her down and you may punish her as you see fit."

Henry looked at Sherlock whose expression was stone, but Henry knew there was no way out of this without ruining what they had worked for up to this point. "Hold the bitch over the table, Charles," Henry said. "I think ten should do the trick."

Charles shoved the now sobbing girl over the table. "Hold her wrists will you, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock slowly took hold of her wrists, holding her over the table while Charles pulled her dress up over her backside. He ripped her underwear from her body, barring her bottom to everyone in the club.

"You may begin, Henry," Charles said with a glint in his eyes. Charles was so taken with what Henry was about to do that he did not see Sherlock release the girl's wrists to take hold of her hands. He held them tightly in his own and spoke very slowly and softly to her.

"Keep your eyes on me," Sherlock said. "Don't look away, just look at me." He squeezed her hands as if to offer her his strength. She cried softly as she stared into his eyes.

Henry swallowed hard, bit back the tears that stung his eyes and brought the crop down on her bare backside. It was a punishing blow, but he only hit her that hard so that Charles would not take it from him and hit her harder. She cried out, but Sherlock kept hold of her hands, squeezing them, trying to offer her any kind of comfort that could be offered as she endured this.

She seemed to understand because her eyes never once wavered from his. She never even blinked as the tears streamed down her face with each blow of the crop.

"Harder, Henry," Charles yelled. "Hit the bitch harder, she is not crying out loudly enough."

The sixth blow hit the fleshiest part of her bottom, but the stripe was agonizing and she wailed loudly. Sherlock held onto her, his fingers interlocking with her own. Her small hands gripped his with a strength that surprised him.

Henry swallowed back the bile that threatened to force its way from his throat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath steadying himself. When he opened his eyes, Charles was staring at him. Henry smiled the most horrible smile that he could and looked back down at the girl. "It's beautiful isn't' it, Sir Charles? The angry red stripes on her gorgeous pale flesh?"

Charles laughed heartily at this and nodded. "Yes, there is nothing lovelier than a perfectly abused backside. Come Henry, keep on…give her twenty instead."

Henry nodded and began striking her again. The girl cried out with each blow, holding onto Sherlock as if her life depended on it and Sherlock held her gaze, forcing her to keep his. If she had to endure this, she would at least see kindness and sorrow for her in his eyes. Henry finished spanking her rapidly. After the twentieth blow, Sherlock let her go before Charles noticed how he held her hands. She stood shakily and placed her dress back around her.

"Now perhaps you won't be such a stupid little bitch from now on, will you?" Charles spat at her as he grabbed her by her hair.

"No sir," she said shakily, barely able to stand.

Charles shoved her roughly away and she fell onto the floor. He kicked her in her stomach and she cried out in pain. "Marcus, get this cunt out of my sight."

Marcus moved quickly, pulling the girl up from the floor and taking her out of the room. Henry was met with praises and cheers from the other patrons that were in the club. Sherlock was concerned that Henry would not be able to keep the charade, so he spoke quickly. "Back to business, Sir Charles," Sherlock said, tearing the check from the book and handing it to him. He picked up his drink and saluted Charles. "Here's to new business ventures, may they be as profitable as this one."

Charles laughed and gulped his drink down. "Here, here, my friend."

Henry sank back down in his seat, his hand shaking slightly. Sherlock grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a bar maid as she walked by and poured Henry a drink in his own glass. "Here Henry," Sherlock said shoving the glass towards him. "The finest whiskey money can buy," he said.

Henry took it gratefully and gulped it down. The alcohol burned him, but it steadied his nerves and cleared his mind.

Henry flicked the light on as he walked into his room. Slowly, he loosened his tie and pulled it free. He tossed it aside and sank down onto his bed. He stared down at his hands and could not stop the tears from flowing. He cried softly for the girl he had beaten and for himself…the guilt he felt was almost crippling. He let out a loud sob before slamming his hand over his mouth.

He heard the soft footsteps moving in the hallways towards his room. He saw her silhouette in the shadow of the light before her actually saw her. He looked up, barely able to make out her face through his own tears.

Janine stepped tentatively into his room. "Henry?" she called softly to him. "Are you alright?" Her voice trembled slightly from her fear of him and it was more than he could endure.

He covered his face with his hands as he choked back a sob. She moved to stand in front of him and with a shaky hand, she reached out and touched his hair. "Henry?" she tried again and yelped in surprise when he reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, jerking her to him. He held her there as he pressed his face into her stomach and cried.

"Henry, what's happened?" she asked, actually feeling pity for him.

He looked up at her with tears streaming down his face. "Oh God…I don't know how much longer I can do this…I've never hurt a woman in my life…may God forgive me for what I have done…I can't do this…I just can't do this…I'm sorry Sherlock…I can't…I can't…"

Janine knelt down in front of him and he pulled her into his arms and held her as he continued to cry. Janine stroked his hair gently, trying to calm him. He repeated over and over that he couldn't do it anymore and that he was sorry to Sherlock…Janine did not understand what all of this meant and she began to wonder if Henry Knight was the horrible man that she thought he was after all.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate you all sticking with me! Show me some love!