Disclaimer: I don't own "Sherlock Holmes" or any of its characters. That all belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Guy Ritchie, etc.
Inspired by: "Stronger Than" by Gabe Bondoc.
November 13th, 1891
The battle against Moriarty waged on. Hundreds of leads were followed, most leading to members of his army or merely touching upon his plan with the wireless device, but that was all. Holmes was becoming increasingly maddened by his nearly fruitless pursuit, and increasingly impatient with the rest of the world. The feelings of resentment, the burning fury, bled out into his home life. Never had Mrs. Hudson been more terrified to tread the boards of her own home, and his friends could do little to assuage him.
Watson, and to a lesser degree Madeline, found him to be as utterly maddening as the great foe breathing down all their necks. No matter what they tried, somehow everything would come back to Moriarty. No distraction held him for long, not even the promise of swordplay helped. He was aflame, alight, could not concentrate on anything but the case.
However, he'd resolved to set the issue aside for one day, and allow his mind to be occupied with demonstrating the skills of his student to an audience of her peers, namely the good doctor and Mary, as well as Mrs. Tyler and Mrs. Bray. Persuading Holmes to participate had taken literal hours of argument, but in the end, Madeline felt it was worth it.
"Perhaps with this demonstration, your mind will be cleared and you will find the loose end to pull," she reasoned finally, practically on her knees and begging before him. She was so worried about his mind, his health, she was willing to swallow her pride and prostrate herself so her friend could recover.
Running a hand through his messy black hair, he sighed, "Perhaps. And it will do you some good, as the doctor is a military man and could help correct you in ways I cannot."
"Maybe," she replied, her lips pulling back into a relieved smile. "I'm not so certain I will be seeing combat anytime soon though, Sherlock."
Holmes laughed, light dancing in his eyes for a moment. "I suppose you have a point there."
Discussion upon discussion of what could and should happen with the great Lord of Crime was sickening after awhile. And deep down, another discussion was being ignored, avoided…
There was a darker feeling lying beneath it all within Madeline, one that she dared not name. In fact, it was something she had no name for. It arose and blanketed her at the slightest glance from the detective, from the briefest touch of his hand on her bare wrist as he readjusted her sword's position. It was a fire, it was ice; burning and freezing her soul as he'd clung close to her that Halloween night, or during their brief contact during Great Escapade in August.
She could not name it, for she had no idea what it was. His dark eyes bore into her, asking the questions he dare not voice, and her green ones struggled to hold back the answers she could never form. So they talked around it, played pretend and never acknowledged her frozen fire. The trouble with that was this fire was not one that was easily contained, and at any moment it would scorch them both.
Buried deep in the back of her mind, she wondered if maybe he wasn't already burned by it.
'After all, we share the same blood. Would it be so mad to think he could feel it heating as I do, at the most inopportune moments?' Madeline thought, arranging her fencing outfit one last time before pulling on her specially-made boots. 'It would explain the impetuous nature I've adopted in the last few months…or it could be from mere association with him.'
There was a knock at the door then, and Mary's strong voice bled through the panels.
"Are you ready, Madeline? Mr. Holmes does seem to be quite restless waiting for you."
"Aye, and he's quite restless whenever he has to wait for anyone but himself, as you well know," she joked, attaching her hilt to her belt and sliding the rapier in it. Mary opened the door then, her jovial smirk brightening her face. Madeline noted how much her gait had slowed as the baby grew bigger. Only a month from now, a new little Watson would be pattering around Cavendish Place, and Mary would be relieved of her heavy burden. "How're you feeling today, Mrs. Watson?"
Tucking a loose strand of her light hair behind her ear, Mary shrugged. "No worse than usual. Back cramps and the like are still wracking me, but it's endurable."
"I'm certain he'll be a strong one," St. James replied, taking Mary's hand and squeezing it. A small pang of jealousy beat in her heart; in all her years with Simon, she'd not once conceived a child. She did want a little boy or girl of her own, but without a suitor, it would be impossible for her to do so.
'And when you'll allow no man save a dark-eyed, lithe sleuth to enter your presence, you squash all hopes for it,' her brain whispered, causing her to shake her head in denial and smiling widely. 'Stop it, stop it, stop it!'
"Thank you for the encouragement," Mary murmured, sweeping her arm towards the door. "And now, I turn some good words onto you: I'm certain you'll do exceptionally well today."
Madeline blushed and inclined her head in thanks before exiting the room swiftly. Immediately she and the doctor's wife climbed into the hansom cab waiting to take them to the warehouse. As she did so, the lady thought she saw a flash of brown hair and bright eyes disappear into the alley across the way, like someone had been watching for her. The cab lurched into the busy streets, and Madeline kept her guard up. The hair on her neck stood up on end; something was going to happen today, and she wasn't so sure it would be good.
xXxXxXx
Bundled against the winter cold, the spectators watched as the duo of Holmes and St. James fluidly engaged each other in battle. All the ladies gasped when Madeline lost her footing at one point, dropping to her knee and barely avoiding a swipe by rolling away. Watson guffawed when Sherlock got a hard kick on back region that sent him toppling over. Thrust, disengage, parry…each move was countered smoothly by the opponents. For a full fifteen minutes they went on, at first strictly playing with blades, and then moving on to a hybrid of boxing and wrestling. Mrs. Tyler was all aflutter at the end of it all, her pupils dilating significantly when Holmes managed to flick his collar open wide enough to semi-bare his chest.
If anyone had been paying attention to her own eyes instead of her body, they would've seen the same look reflecting in Madeline's. She started, backing away suddenly from the thought physically. Egged on by a possible surrender, Holmes invaded her space and grabbed her arms. Dragged backwards into their invisible ring, she felt that betraying organ pounding in her chest, fearing his hold on her.
And yet…and yet she hoped he'd never let go.
'Oh no,' she inwardly groaned, recognizing in that moment the feelings by their true name. Then she saw the hand swinging towards her head, forcing her to jerk back. 'Oh, no!'
In his blind dancing, he did not see her personal revelation, and for that she was most grateful. At the end of their somewhat choreographed maneuvers, both were flushed, sweating, and bowing at the waist to their approving audience. It was a fine show, and for the moment, Holmes had forgotten about his enemy, his frustration, thanks to his exhausted female companion standing to his left. With her, he was able to act purely on instinct, the thought in some way there and yet not. And instinctually, his gaze flicked over to her, to her male clothing-clad body, and her sandy hair straggling down from her cap. The green of her glimpse made his stomach turn strangely, in a way familiar and yet unknown. The flush of his face grew darker, but he could not look away. Not a detail was missed, and so he noticed how her face was instantly drained of blood. Her jaw dropped, and following her eyes, he saw exactly why she was shocked.
"Bravo, Sherlock and madam!" cried a woman leaning over the railing on an upper platform. The brunette locks that were pinned back on her head slipped away, and her bright eyes missed nothing. Miss Irene Adler was indeed impressed with the performance…somewhat. "It's good to see you're training another defenseless woman to fend for herself on the rough London streets!"
Her insincere flattery worked on nobody, least of all the detective. He'd not seen her for a month and a half, when she'd come to him with her last bit of information on the professor she served. Moriarty was finally sick of using as Irene as a go-between, and just plain expelled her from his organization. Madeline heard the briefest version of this story, but what she gathered from the physical evidence (meaning the torn collar on his shirt and the lip rouge marks along his jaw), it seemed that Adler had tried to seduce him once more. But all traces of her were swept out of the house by the time Madeline had arrived just hours later, and so she assumed he'd also disposed of Irene as well.
Apparently Irene did not want to stay "disposed".
"What brings you by, Miss Adler?" Watson coughed, stepping forward. Julianne and Mrs. Bray looked from him to Madeline and up at Irene, their eyebrows quirking up in confusion. Mary leaned over and whispered explanations to them as Irene began to descend to their level.
"Oh, I simply was in the neighborhood, noticed the spectacle," she said, pulling her gloves off finger by finger. "A fine student you have there, Holmes. Aren't you that one woman from the accident, that one who almost got killed by her maid?"
"It was my brother-in-law's maid, actually," Madeline responded, shifting her weight uncomfortably. Adler had reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the far wall, her smirk growing wider.
"Oh, forgive me, Mrs. St. John."
"St. James." Her irritation level, already heightened, was reaching its pique. Considering how this con artist had toyed with her friend's life for so long, it was a wonder that she could handle speaking to Adler at all. Turning her back on the opposing lady, she grabbed up the abandoned rapiers and handed her male compatriot's back to him.
"Again, forgive me." Irene's attention turned back on Holmes. He'd taken a step back, his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze piercing her. "But I must say, the fight was a bit unfair."
"How so?" Sherlock queried, cocking his head to the left.
The sultry thief shrugged, like she wasn't actually trying to antagonize anybody. "Well, as a teacher, you have a duty to assist your student. In other words, you're not fighting to the fullest extent to your ability. But what would happen if, say, an enemy appears and tries to attack? She hasn't been prepared for that, as you will stop before going too far."
"I assure you, she has been trained well enough to engage a total stranger."
'She is standing right here…' Madeline groused to herself, tightening her hold on her rapier's hilt.
"Why not test the theory?"
Madeline did not hide her eye-rolling. "You have no weapon on you, madam. The engagement would be unevenly matched."
At that moment, Irene pulled out the daggers concealed in her hair. Disguised as decorative hair pins, they gleamed in the low light and seemed vicious.
"What say you now to a friendly fight?"
Holmes tried to intercede. "Woman, I highly suggest-"
"No, Sherlock," Madeline grunted, her back stiffening as renewed energy surged through her frame. "I will accept your challenge, Miss Adler."
The two women were glaring fully at each other. There would be no "friendly fight"; it was going to be an all-out war. No matter that Madeline was dripping with sweat, or that Irene did not know her enemy, they had to do it. The gauntlet was thrown and picked up. The only question remaining was why Irene was doing this at all.
"En garde," the brunette roared, charging ahead with her shining knives. The fairer woman sidestepped and shoved her along, jumping out of the way.
"Let's begin."
They weaved around each other, performing a waltz wherein they crashed, slammed and passed blades. Each step measured against the other equally, and neither would surrender the battle. Adler drove one dagger at Madeline's leg, and nearly succeeded in catching her. Luckily she jerked her leg out, and so instead of metal meeting flesh, the blade just bit into her clothing. Soon enough her rapier flew away, followed by Adler's weapons. Now both were fully bare, mouths panting and harsh words being bandied only by their actions.
And Irene, as she was wont to do, took to her heels and sped out the door. She didn't count on a lady, filled with Holmes' own pursuing blood, would go after her. The great chase continued for some time, with Adler knocking barrels and crates over as she passed and Madeline leaping and tripping as she trailed after her. The docks lay just in front of the con's path and from there she could only double back. Screeching to a halt, she barely had time to turn around before Madeline plowed straight into her. They wrestled for a time, evenly matched there as well. As far as street fighting went, Irene could hold her own, but only for a short amount of time. Her strength lied in being seductive and charming people into giving her what she wanted.
But Madeline was not like that. She took the fight to the furthest level and beyond. For she had learned that in her life it had to be all or nothing.
"Stop!" Irene screamed, scratching her opponent's face with her manicured nails. "Get off me, you witch!"
"Argh! Not until you explain why you've challenged me, why you've come back, why…" Madeline groaned, wrenching the other woman's hand away from her cheek. The wound was burning, a sure sign that it was deep enough to scar. At that moment, she looked into Irene's jealous orbs, and could see the reason. The fight bled out of her bones, and then the thief overpowered her, but only the pounding in her brain mattered.
It was Holmes. Irene was fighting for Sherlock Holmes, though it was a losing battle. She could not accept the defeat…she could accept the fact that he was well and truly done chasing her. And the only comprehensible reason behind his rejection was…his single true female friend. Irene had followed them, watched them, and had been doing so probably for months. She was seeing her replacement, the light to her dark, the other side of the coin settled upright on Holmes' table.
However one-sided and misguided the reasoning was, it was what Adler was clinging to. Madeline burned and froze again, unable to make apologies and unable to spit it back into Irene's face. All she could do was crawl away from the thudding punches.
"He can never…" Adler started, grabbing her ankles and pulling her back into the tussle, "…he will never…"
"I don't want to hear it, I cannot hear it," Madeline rejected her words feebly. She punched Irene squarely in the jaw, knocking her back. Finally freed, she stumbled away and swiped the blood off her scratches. 'This cannot be happening, I will not let it happen…'
"He'll never love."
The words were out and making the air bitter. Puffs of breath flowed from the women, one's powered by complete exhaustion and the other's driven by overwhelming emotion. It was unsure if their feelings were so much different. Madeline stared down her adversary, eyes brimming with tears and ears catching the sounds of beating footsteps. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mary being led on by her husband, Julianne with her great strides overcoming those of Nanny Bray. And at the head of the pack ran the one whom the battle was fought, one of the most intelligent and yet most blind men in Britain.
The man who stopped short in his path once he found two familiar women, his expression twisting between askance and disbelief. The scrutinizing gaze was ripping her soul bare, and so Madeline did the first thing she could think of.
She ran away, hurdling past the crowd, through the streets, across bridges and cart-paths until she arrived at her home. And then, she began to weep; from overtiredness, from shock, from fear, from fury…and from a love she never understood until then.
Author's note: Oooh, drama! After all the fluffy stuff, why not get a dash of it? Well, this is an interesting development, is it not? I hope it's good for you guys. Thanks for reading, review please my dears, and I'll be seeing you all within a week!