AN: I apologize for taking so long. So, this chapter is extra long and I apologize for it. Please R&R!
Peril
Holmes's mind was at full speed as he leaned against the side of a building for support. His breathing was labored as he tried to stay alert. "The Professor" was just ahead of him with the rest of his crew. He heard Watson shout ahead of him and the detective plodded ahead despite the gash above his right brow. The blood was blinding him and he knew that he had to act quickly. Finally, he walked around a corner and there at the end of the alley was Watson. The good doctor turned to shout at Holmes to get support but when he saw Holmes's condition he stopped short. Holmes could vaguely see the doctor's concern as he arrived by his side. Before either could speak, a booming voice from an overturned cart addressed them. "I told you it was unwise to unravel the thread, Mr. Holmes. I gave you a chance to live up to your potential but like your darling assistant I must remove you." The professor's voice was aristocratic as ever but also held a tone of malice.
Watson growled at the disembodied voice, he knew that Claire was safe and far away from The Professor's influence. He was about to shout insults at the man but Holmes stopped him as they stood behind a crate. "Don't pretend that you still have your power, Professor. Or should I say Lord Rathbone? Your real identity was a bit of a puzzle until I recognized your family's seal on your ring. You should have taken better care of concealing it from me." Holmes's tone was sharp, and to the point. He hoped that revealing news was enough to shock the criminal. He dared to peek over the top of the crate only to be shot at by one of the lackeys. He ducked just in time and cursed Lestrade for taking so long to follow. Watson attempted to fire back only to hit dirt instead of man.
Lord Rathbone grimaced behind the cart; he clenched his right hand that bore the ring. He had forgotten the keen observations of the celebrated Sherlock Holmes. "You found me out, Mr. Holmes. But, you are still vastly outnumbered and I doubt the police will arrive in time to save you." The villain chuckled a bit; he had Holmes and Watson right where he needed them. As for Claire, he was content with the assumption that the girl was dead or she was soon to be if his men did their job well. Rathbone was so busy trying to maneuver his men that he failed to realize that the sound of a gunfight were no longer there. 'Where are you, you ungrateful curs?" He hissed as the he stood up, giving up his cover from Watson's revolver.
It was Watson's turn to chuckle as he saw the tall man be bewildered by the sudden departure of his minions. His men had been assaulted while he was boasting by The Red Scarves who now had their arms trained on Rathbone. Holmes smirked to see the gang working in so silent a manner and emerged from the crate with Watson. The lanky detective approached him with a cold neutral expression. "Your time of power is over Rathbone. You were not the puzzle I hoped for." Holmes said with a hint of regret as Lestrade came finally and arrested the man.
Rathbone snarled at Holmes, "You think I am the last threat to you? Just you wait until you meet my maker. He will crush you and your friend along with this city." The Lord's eyes were wide and he was smiling like a maniac.
Holmes merely blinked back at him, "I know who you are referring to and I know for a fact that he had no part in your creation. His ego wouldn't allow for one of his underlings to create an identity like his own. You should be glad I got to you before he did." Holmes's tone was close to scathing as he turned away from the former crime lord. The wheels of his mind began to turn again at the thought of this other evil in his life. The real villain that was Professor Moriarty would not cross his threshold for awhile now that Holmes had taken out one of his copycats. Holmes sat on a crate while Watson inspected his friend's wound with a look of concern.
"You should be glad that he only grazed your brow with that rock. You could have lost an eye." Watson's concern sounded like an over protective mother but Holmes knew better than to call him out on it. Holmes's mind was done with Rathbone and now his mind now turned to his unfinished business with Claire Watson. His heart seized in his chest instantly at the thought of her in peril somewhere in England. Sherlock Holmes was a proud man but he knew that he had to rectify the situation. He was so busy thinking that he forgot that Watson was currently engaged in the task of cleaning his wound with alcohol. Holmes felt the sting of the medical substance and hissed. Watson shook his head, "I will need to stitch that brow up once we get back to Bakerstreet. What did you think of Rathbone's threat?" Watson let his friend rise and led him to their cab.
Holmes shook his head to dismiss the look Watson was giving him; he wanted more information than was necessary. "It was the last retort he could give in hopes of provoking an aberrant response from me. Pay it no mind, Watson. But, I will say that we will not see the last of kind of character Rathbone is." Holmes's thin face contorted with a manner of dread for only a moment before it vanished.
Watson sighed compassionately as they boarded the cab and braved the mass of cabs on the street. "I was afraid you would say something of that nature. I am glad that we are free of Rathbone, although I wish dearly that Claire had been here to see it." The doctor had a hint of regret in his tone that ended all possible conversations. Watson wanted to tell Holmes where Claire was and that she was safe for once in her hazardous life. But, he did not want to push his friend to admit that he missed her. As the pair walked up the stairs to the sitting room, Watson went to grab his bag and as he did so, he hoped Claire was having a more peaceful day.
Same time in Brighton
Claire stood on her porch of her cottage as her dear friend Rodger Bloom was making a mess of the kitchen. The sea air filled her lungs with relaxation that she needed desperately and the ache of her left shoulder was less than it had been in London. A burst of wind made her lilac dress flutter in the breeze and she almost forgot why she was there before Rodger reappeared with the tea and sandwiches. "I hope you cleaned up in there, Rodger. I would hate to see my great aunt's house so misused." She smirked at him as he handed her a cup of the willow bark tea.
Rodger took this swipe at his habits with a smirk that retorted hers, "I wondered how long it would be before you starting insulting my character. Your great-aunt has been dead for two years, she left you this house so that you could be a stylish spinster like herself." His brown eyes danced with amusement.
Claire rolled her eyes at the remark, "Well, she was one of the few who thought well enough of me to consider me stylish. I always enjoyed this house and she knew how much I adored the sea. I wish you could stay with me longer, there is so much we need to catch up on." The lady had a hint of want in her voice but she was trying to be strong.
Rodger placed one of his thin hands upon the callused hands of his dear friend, "I wish I could stay longer as well, Claire. But, the gallery needs me desperately, we are getting more paintings from France and I am one of the few who can speak French. How long do you plan to spend in Brighton?"
Claire looked out across the street where a young man and young woman were walking arm in arm. She observed them as they whispered in each other's ears and the woman's giggle reminded her of another young lady. Her bright blue eyes snapped back to attention and she turned to her friend. "I am not sure as of yet. I plan on staying at least a month, since I no longer have a job to worry about." She didn't mean to sound angry but her tone said otherwise.
Rodger locked eyes with her, "Claire, I been your friend for many years and weathered that heartbreak with you. I am just as sure as I was then that you will regroup and carry on. You are too remarkable not to." He cemented this sincerity with a kiss on her forehead.
Claire felt tears prick to the corners of her eyes; her heart was flooded with warmth from the feelings of gratitude. "Thank you, Rodger for those kind words. I am happy to know that you will be on my side, no matter what mishaps I happen to get myself into." The lady was glad not to be on her own, otherwise her feelings of hurt would be allowed to fester instead of heal.
As Rodger began to clear the tea tray, Claire noticed a pair of figures coming up the lane that looked normal for a place like Brighton. Both men were wearing light tan suits with matching hats which was a common sight. But, one was carrying a walking stick of some sort and the other seemed not to be carrying a weapon. The way they walked made Claire suspicious of them being vacationers and more like assassins. The lane that the cottage stood on was fairly sparse with only a few cottages like Claire's. Most of those were still unoccupied since the summer holiday season was not to start for another few days. Claire's vision of the two figures grew sharper as they came closer and without warning she hurried into the house with a look of frustration upon her face.
Rodger looked perplexed at his friend's new change in manner, "Claire, what is the matter? Did you see an overweight sunbather again?" He added the joke to alleviate his friend's nerves.
Claire shot him a dark smile before motioning him to the kitchen, "In a minute or two, two men are going to knock on the door. They are what I assume left of Rathbone's gang sent to make certain that I'm no longer a threat. I need you to pretend to own this home and not to know a Claire Watson. Tell them that you were a friend of the family and that you wrote for permission to use the cottage." Claire spoke in a whisper, for she feared of being overheard by the approaching attackers.
Rodger gulped, he knew that she was serious by the steady nature of her voice and her gaze. "I will do my best, but what about you? There is nowhere you can hide without being heard or seen." His voice was trembling with fear but he was resolved to help her.
Claire surprised her friend with a small smile, "That is simple enough; I will pretend to be your wife. I have the assumption that they don't know what I look like, so hopefully that will fool them enough to leave. If they see through our charade, be prepared to head for the constable and I will try to subdue them." Her eyes crackled with the thought of fighting again, she had a lot of pent up anger and she was keen to use it.
Rodger shared her wicked grin and helped her ready the house to look more like a couple lived there instead of an old spinster. They barely had any time to remove photographs of Claire's great aunt Sophie before there was a loud knock on the door. Rodger straightened his green tie that stood out against his beige summer suit and went to the door. "Yes, may I help you?" He answered with perfect curiosity at the two strange men at his door. Claire waited in the kitchen and silently prayed that this ruse would work.
"Yes, we are looking for a Miss. Claire Watson. We represent a client who wishes us to find Miss. Watson." The taller one without a cane spoke in an authoritative tone. His accomplice tried to look beyond Rodger only to be blocked his arm against the door frame.
Rodger shook his head, "I'm sorry to disappoint you gentlemen. There is no Miss. Watson here, only myself and my darling wife Jennifer. If you would care to come in for some refreshments, I am sure I can point you in the right direction." Rodger smiled as he opened the door wider and invited the men inside. He showed them into the sitting area where there was a love seat and two wicker chairs. "Please, have a seat." He gestured, again with a small smile.
The taller man spoke again as the shorter one looked around, "I am sorry to impose on your holiday Mr. ..." He stopped short to await Rodger's answer.
Rodger blinked quickly, "Oh yes, where are my manners? My name is Mr. Rodger Redgrave." He stayed seated on the loveseat and made sure to keep the two men seated.
"Mr. Redgrave, we were told that Miss. Claire Watson would be here in Brighton. Do you have any idea where she might be or why you are here instead of her?" The taller one asked, his pleasant tone fading into the air.
Rodger shifted in his seat, "I have never met this Miss. Watson you speak of, and I've only heard gossip from various relatives about her. Perhaps my wife will be more of a help, darling?" He called towards the kitchen and a moment later the group heard a light female voice.
"Be there in a moment, dear. I am bringing out some sandwiches." Claire emerged with a tray of cucumber snacks for the guests and she sat down next to her "husband" with a kiss on the cheek.
Rodger playing the affectionate husband smiled and returned her kiss, "Darling, these gentlemen are looking for a Miss. Claire Watson. I remembered that you mentioned an old friend named Claire." He placed his hand on hers and continued to be genial towards the guests.
Claire chuckled at Rodger's mannerisms and shook her head, "I've only heard rumors of the woman and how many headaches she's given to her family. You are probably thinking of my other acquaintance Claire Washburn. I'm sorry to tell you kind gentlemen that she is not here." Claire presented them with her platter only to be abjured by the strangers. She still kept her pleasant mask of civility despite her urge to inform them of their fool's errand.
Rodger checked his pocket watch and rose, "Well, gentlemen unless you have more questions, I must ask you to leave. My wife and I have plans to attend to and have little time to spend on strangers." He tried his best to stay civil but made his tone deliberate.
The gentlemen rose with him and nodded, "Sorry to have taken up your time Mr. Redgrave and Mrs. Redgrave." They inclined their heads in a gesture of respect as if to ease the anxiety Claire and Rodger were feeling. As they began to leave Claire accidently hit the shorter gentleman with her heavy tray full of food. It knocked the wind out of him and caused him to drop to the floor.
Claire's eyes went large like any surprised person would. "I'm dreadfully sorry sir; I did not see you when I turned to go to the kitchen. Do I need Rodger to fetch a doctor?" She asked, concerned and anxious. She made sure to take a step closer to the kitchen where she would be better protected if an assault should occur. Before she could relax, Claire's left shoulder began to pound from the sudden use of force. Without thinking she put the tray down on the table in the sitting room and began to massage her left shoulder with her right hand.
The taller man's eyes narrowed at this display as he whispered something to his colleague who had sat back down and was coughing from the blow. Rodger was near enough to hear, "Didn't the boss say she was shot in the left shoulder?" And immediately rushed to Claire's side and placed a kind hand on her hurt shoulder. "Is that old rowing injury bothering you again, Jenny my dear?" He asked her as he massaged the hurt tissue.
Claire recognized that she had made an error by revealing her injury to the underlings, "Yes... silly me. I keep forgetting how heavy that tray is. I'm so sorry I hit you with it, it was an accident." She placed her hand upon her heart to profess her innocence further. But, she could see that the men were not sold on a rowing injury. She chewed her on her lip, unsure what to do. Claire wanted them gone but now all that mattered was how they were to leave. She looked them over as the pair continued to whisper back and forth. The tall one did not look too formidable but then he might have a gun on him. The shorter one was the bigger threat, he looked like he might have been a boxer from broad body he had. Claire smirked slightly, she could take them both even with the injured shoulder but there would be talk about why the men were so roughed up.
The tall one got up and surveyed Claire close enough for Rodger to object, "Upon my word, good sir. You have trespassed on my time long enough; I suggest you take your friend and leave." His good-natured smile faded.
Both men stood and smiled evilly at Rodger and Claire, "I'm sorry but we can't leave until our job is done. I think it best if Miss. Watson comes with us now, quietly." They extended a hand to Claire who did not take it and glared at them.
The lady stood at her full height of five foot seven and stared them down as she moved towards the kitchen. The tall one made his move and took two strides so that he was between her and the knife set within. He smirked down at her, "You almost had me fooled, until you tried to hit Charlie with that tray. Now you are coming with us unless you want trouble." He flexed his shoulders as if to intimidate her into submission.
Claire rolled her eyes at this display of power from the man, "I won't be going with you anywhere. You have to realize that by now your leader, Lord Rathbone has been caught by the Scotland Yard and is sitting in a cell somewhere. The rest of your allies have either been arrested or are on the run from the law. Now what do you say?" Claire raised an eyebrow, her demeanor of a frightened housewife disposed of to reveal a very put off former spy.
The tall one snarled at her gall and slapped her across the face, "You should show Lord Rathbone the respect he deserves. We have no reason to believe anything you or your friend has to say. Now you will come with us or I'll..." He was cut off by Claire's fist in his Solar plexus which made him double over with a gasp. The short man was about to rush Claire only to be hit on the head with the serving tray by Rodger. The man went down fast and hit the floor with a soft thud. Claire shared a smile with Rodger before she stomped on the taller man's instep which caused him to grunt in pain. The tall assailant slapped Claire again as he stood upright, angry that a woman such as she could hurt him. "Boss never mentioned you would put up a fight." He growled at her as they circled each other like boxers.
Claire took a chance to chuckle, "I forgot that Rathbone never knew what I was capable of. He should have asked Alexander Knight before he sent only two of his henchmen after me." She was baiting him to strike so that she could have another shot at him.
The tall man smirked as he tried to get a shoulder strike to her bad shoulder only to have Claire dodge his punch and hit him square in the nose with a wicked right cross. There was a resounding crack from the nose that could be heard down the lane. He snarled as the blood began to boil forth from the nose. He tried to punch her again only to have Claire complete her plan of attack by kneeing him in the groin. The man could take no more and with a groan he was knocked out onto the floor beside his companion. Rodger looked over both men and made sure they were still alive he then cast a frightened look at Claire who was observing the state of her knuckles. "Well, they are both alive. What are we going to do now Claire? Getting the constable would not be much of help." Rodger was in shock of how easily Claire had taken out a man who was vastly taller than she was.
Claire tilted her head at him with a look of curiosity. "Getting the constable would be the best course of action. We say that they tried to assault us and that we acted in self-defense. My cheek is going to be bruised by the time you get him here. I will tie our guests up and keep them comfortable until you return." She said so nonchalantly that Rodger had forgotten for a moment that she was used to confrontations such as these.
Rodger blinked quickly, "I keep forgetting that you used to deal with vile men like these. I will go get the constable right away, are you sure you will be alright?" He asked in earnest, wanting to help his dear friend.
Claire shook her head as she disappeared and then came back with a good length of rope to tie the two men's hands. "I appreciate your concern Rodger, but I will be fine. I've faced greater foes in my day." Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement which made Rodger all the more wary but none the less he fetched the constable who was surprised that there was a break in.
He took away the two men who were just coming to when he hauled them away with promises that all would be well. The constable could not help but notice that the woman had a bruised hand as well as a bruised cheek while the man had no visible injury. He shook his head; it was nonsense of course, for a woman to do that much damage to full grown men. The constable knew best to let the thought fly away and be more preoccupied with the thought of his wife cooking dinner for him.
Back in London
Watson looked at his handiwork of Holmes's right brow, the detective had only needed three stitches and it looked clean and orderly. "Be careful not to let it get wet or it could get infected." He packed his case and watched the detective remain still in his chair. "Now that Rathbone is off our plate, I hope you are pondering the apology you are going to give to Claire." Watson let seriousness of his tone hit Holmes who stared at him as he was mad.
"Do not start to lecture me on that subject, Watson. We both know that my termination of her employment was less than exemplary and for that she does earn an apology. As for the other matter, I am certain Miss. Watson no longer holds any emotions of the romantic nature towards me by now." His cold and distant tone hit Watson like a stone weight.
Watson threw up his hands, "How can that be your rationality? We both know that is rubbish. I have seen you mull over this longer than you have with any woman. I know it is not just because she is my cousin and you're assistant. You are being a coward, Holmes and that is plain as day." Watson's face was slowly turning red from his distaste for his friend trying to run away from his feelings.
Holmes was taken aback slightly by Watson's outburst, he had expected it for some time. "How do you expect me to act, Watson? Am I supposed to the romantic hero and chase down the woman I've come to care for? This attack from Alexander won't be the last attempt at her life. For all we know, Rathbone sent henchmen to wherever she is now to finish what Alexander started. You know how much danger we face each case and yet you think somehow Miss. Watson is an exception to the case of being hurt or kidnapped or killed." Holmes was standing toe to toe with Watson; his tone was hard and rational to the core.
Watson's face lost the red color of anger but he stayed his ground, "I expect you to go to Brighton and tell her the truth, Holmes. She has proven herself time and again that she is resilient against attacks of all sorts and will stand by you no matter the cost. Don't think I do not worry just as much as you do about her safety on a case. If you are right about men being sent after her, you have just as much reason to go after her. I would go with you Holmes, but this is something only the pair of you can discuss." Watson's heart was pounding in his chest in hope that Holmes would agree.
Holmes let his friend's words sink in and then placed a lanky hand on the stouter man's shoulder. "You are right, if Miss. Watson is in danger I should go to her aide. I will take the next train to Brighton and apologize to her, but do not press me for more." The lanky detective turned and began his preparations for his errand. He smirked to himself as he packed, Holmes knew that if Rathbone sent any men that Claire would have them taken care of. Part of him was surprised that Watson underestimated Claire's fighting ability as well, but that was because he still had not seen her in action. The heart of the detective began to leap in anticipation of seeing Claire and even with the thrill of the case in his mind; there was no earthly way for him to stop the feeling of love flow through the rest of his body. Sherlock Holmes was in love, of this he had been certain for awhile now. All that mattered was if the subject of these feelings still shared the same sentiments.