-1Hi all, this may be the last chapter of this fic, it does end a bit abruptly so it may be a good place to end. Let me know what you think because I'm willing to carry on with it if people like it. If not we'll leave it here! Let me know anyway…Thanks as always to everyone who reads and reviews!! Loads a love, Amy xx
Chapter Five.
The city was dark; the cold glare of the lamplight hurt his eyes but he did not look away. Instead he faced them head on, almost wishing the light to burn him - he craved the pain. He craved any feeling. He turned from the light and continued to walk. Mycroft had warned him of the danger of going out alone at night; told him that he was not yet ready, but he had paid him no attention. He did not fear the streets any more now than before his…illness. He craved the energy of the people he encountered, viewed them from afar with a certain envy. He would pause sometimes in the cold dawn light and observe the poor wretches of London's east end and wonder to himself why they smiled. For smile they did, and often. Holmes could not bring himself to smile in return. He was angry at these people for stealing the happiness that should have been his. He approached a group of men lounging outside a pub and tipped his hat to them.
"Alright Guv" one of the more rough looking men said, "Bit early for the likes o' you ain't it?" He laughed loudly, Holmes merely smiled.
"I rarely sleep."
"Reckon you need a good woman mar mate." Laughed another, again Holmes smiled enigmatically.
"Perhaps."
"Oi Sally!" One of them shouted into the bar beyond. A girlish giggle reached Holmes' ears that was somewhat familiar, but he could not discern from where. Soon after the girl herself fell into the waiting arms of the rough looking man and she giggled again.
"Watch it John, I'm a delicate lily me" She laughed again and stroked an elegant hand over his rough face, he grabbed it and kissed her palm. Holmes shuddered involuntarily. The girl pulled away her hand and looked at Holmes, as she registered him her brown eyes flashed for a second, then died away to the dullness that was there before. Holmes noticed this but said nothing. The man flung her at Holmes who caught her nimbly with one arm. Sally looked at him and straightened herself; suddenly she turned with fury to the man who had thrown her.
"Whatchya wanna go do that for? The poor gent dain't know what to do wiv 'imself." She then turned to Holmes with a smile that he always had thought such women incapable of bestowing.
"Terribly sorry Sir, they're a bunch of ruffians really, good fur nuffin oafs!" She shouted this last part to the gang who merely laughed boisterously in return. Gently she took Holmes' arm and led him down the alley, Holmes did not resist. When they had turned the corner and were out of sight, the girl pushed Holmes against the wall. Before he could resist her, her hand clamped over his mouth and she smiled. The most beautiful smile Holmes had ever seen, she felt him relax under her arm.
"Now Mr. Holmes suppose you tell me what you're doing wandering around this part of London and at this extremely unrespectable hour of the morning?" She smiled again and removed her hand. Holmes looked at her breathlessly. A single word escaped his lips.
"Irene."
They were seated before a glowing fire in rooms in a slightly more respectable part of London just as dawn was breaking over the Thames. Irene had made tea and was curled in a chair opposite Holmes her feet under her, and her hands cradling the steaming cup. Her gaze was directed atr the fire but Holmes' gaze was directed at her. She was trul beautiful, even in excessive make-up and dirt on her face she was the most exquisite creature Holmes had ever encountered. He admired her unashamedly, she did not glance up at him as he adored her. When she did Holmes averted his eyes to the tea cup he held. Irene smiled.
"So, now we are alone and in a more congenial setting. Are you going to tell me what you were doing/" Her voice was as soft as a caress and Holmes found himself embarrassed in her presence. He shifted uncomfortably in her chair trying to keep his eyes from resting on her scantily clad figure.
"I was merely observing my species from a different angle," he smiled back at here, "and you? I have to say I was more than a little shocked to find you there, considering I believed you dead."
His eyes settled on her and she cleared her throat.
"Maybe I wanted to be thought dead. You, yourself have used the same lie when it suited you."
"It did not suit me." Holmes snapped and stood, his tea cup clattering to the floor. Irene uncurled her legs and straightened in her seat. Holmes passed a hand over his brow and bent down at Irene's feet to retrieve the cup. Before he could do so she had also fallen to her knees and had clasped his hands in her own.
"My dear Mr. Holmes - for you have always been that to me - tell me what has befallen you and as your friend I promise to listen and never to judge."
Holmes stared into her beautiful brown eyes and could not speak, he lowered his head and released his hands. A sigh escaped his lips as he stood. He turned and held out a hand to Irene, she took and raised herself.
"It is not a petty story. It involves death, murder and madness. Are you prepared for that?" He asked quietly, still holding her hand.
"I am prepared for anything. I always have been."
"Yes, I believe that Miss. Adler. Or is it Mrs. Norton?" Holmes raised a distinguished eyebrow and cocked his head toward her. She released her hand and turned from him.
"It is neither." She said abruptly, "It is Sally, Sally Sparrow. For the time being anyway." Her frown erupted into a smile and she fell into her chair. Holmes sat opposite her and smiled. He told her his story, omitting nothing and she listened with interest and sincerity. Holmes felt released when he had finished and he leaned back into his chair avoiding her eyes, fearing disgust, pity, remonstration. Prepared for anything but what he received. Silently Irene walked over to him and placed herself at his feet. With a tear glistening on her ivory cheek she took Holmes' hand and kissed it.
"Oh my poor detective. How cruelly life has used us both." Holmes' looked at her, his own self-pity washing away for the first time in three years. He bent over her and stroked her chestnut hair gently, fearing to find reality in this dream in which he found himself. He bent to her and kissed the head resting on his knee.
"Life, is indeed cruel my dear Miss…"he paused Irene's tear stained face smiled up at him, "Sparrow." She smiled and placed her head again on his knee.
"But I feel tonight will change both our fortunes." he leaned back and only the night and the ghosts heard his whisper.
"For better or for worse."
And the wind swept it away and never again did Sherlock Holmes feel pity for himself while another human being suffered.