Chapter fifteen: The truth comes forth

I stood back and admired the parlor. It was perfect; the walls were shades of deep green and the furniture now complimented the room. All the plumbing was working. The house really just needed a good cleaning and a few coats of paint. Mrs. Hudson smiled at me. "I don't know how you did it Tammy; everything just goes by so fast when you're working with us."

I wrap an arm around her shoulder. "It's because I'm so bossy."

She shakes her head. "You're determined and enthusiastic, there's a difference. Sherlock should love this."

"I hope so."

"And the way you renovated that entire basement into a lab for him," she shook her head excitedly. "he should love it. I've never seen him this happy before."

"I assure you Mrs. Hudson; I do not make him happy."

"Nonsense." She shook her hand at me and went to arrange a pot nearer the window. "Just because you two don't sleep together," my face heated in embarrassment. Did everyone in this house know our sleeping arrangements? "doesn't mean you can't make him happy. There is more to love than just making love Tammy, you know that and so does he. I think it's wonderful."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." I cleared my throat and gazed around the room, desperate to come up with another topic.

"Young people nowadays, excluding you and Sherlock, are always looking forward to the physical side of a relationship. However, it's not that side of their marriage that will hold them together."

A door banged open. "Tammy?" Sherlock shouted. "Where are you?"

"Excuse me Mrs. Hudson." I stepped towards the parlor door and hollered. "In the parlor, Sherlock?"

Sherlock ran down the stairs and hurried towards me, his nose was twitching. "You've been painting in here?"

"Yes. A few rooms, what is it?"

He held out the paper, all pasted together again. "I broke the code."

Excitement built in my veins. "You did!" Unable to resist I threw my arms around his neck! "Wonderful!" I released his neck and asked. "What is it?"

"Oh, you'll never guess." He took a hold of my arm and guided me into the parlor. He frowned. "Green?"

I paused. "Do you like it?"

He looked around as he removed his hat. "Believe it or not, I actually do. It looks much more efficient." He handed me the paper. "Here's your mother's original note." I took it and glanced at all the numbers. Sherlock then handed me another piece of paper. "And this is the code cracked."

I frowned. "This still doesn't make much sense. It simply says Dubonnet, Baker Street, and a bunch of numbers."

"They're coordinates."

"For a location."

Sherlock can barely able to contain his excitement. "And it also says what it contains. The Dubonnet diamond."

I frown. "I've never heard of it before, sorry."

"The Dubonnet diamond is a 200 carat, purple diamond that went missing about twenty years ago. I actually remember this case, I always suspected the prostitute who found the owner's dead body, but I couldn't get anyone to listen to me. I was only seven at the time and were about to be born. You actually were, the next day."

"Name?" I asked tightly, afraid to know the answer. "The name of the prostitute?"

"Her name was Anthea, refused to give anymore of her name. Probably a fake." I groaned and sank down on the nearest sofa. He frowned and looked down at me. "What's the matter?"

"My mother's name was Anthea." Sherlock's face grew curious. "Anthea Delarosa." I looked at him as I sat down beside him. "My mother murdered the owner of the diamond?"

"Possibly. I didn't have a chance to examine the body." He rubbed his hands together. "I've requested the paperwork on the body, as most of the evidence will have likely disintegrated." I looked down at the ground. "I must say, your father had excellent taste in picking you for my bride. I can't name another bride that comes complete with a mystery like this."

"Not funny Sherlock." I elbowed him as tears filled my eyes. "My mother was a murder."

Sherlock placed a hand on my elbow. "For the record, Mr. Dubonnet was an unsavory man. your mother could have acted in self defense."

"Though robbery suggest otherwise." I state firmly as I glower at him through my tears. "You don't need to mollycoddle me, I'm not a child!"

"Alright, after murdering Mr. Dubonnet, your mother buried the diamond in a safe and secure location. She then, put the location of the inside the bracelet, so after twenty year, she can say she found it. with Mr. Dubonnet dead and there being no relatives, there would be no reason for her not to keep it."

"I think I'm going to be sick." I moaned as I leaned forward slightly, the world spinning around my head. "I can't believe this. And her blood flows through my veins."

"If you're worried that I'm worried that you're going to try and kill me," I dropped my head into my arms at Sherlock's tone. "don't be. You're not like your mother at all."

"How do you know?" I demanded looking up at him.

Sherlock had a half-smile on his face. "Because," he brushed my chin with my thumb. "you were raised better; you're not as clever as she is. besides," he smirked. "you're obviously more interested in solving crimes than committing them."

I exhaled and removed the towel I'd bundled all of my hair up into. "How does Moriarty fit into all of this?"

"I did some research." I began twisting my hair up in a knot, preparing to pin it up. Sherlock reached up and pulled my hand down. "Don't go pinning that up. Apparently, Moriarty and your stepmother grew up together in the orphanage around the corner."

I stared at him in amazement. "And he saw the whole thing?"

"He's thirty now, I'm guessing he was ten when he witnessed the murder." I shuddered in disgust. "What?"

"He's almost ten years older than me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now, I'm guessing it took him several years to track your mother down. Now, as near as I can tell, she took the poison involuntarily but the gunshot wounds, believe it or not, were self-inflicted."

I gasped in horror. "What?"

"Tammy," he said gently. "the poison would have driven her mad. She was in such agony that she preferred to end her life quickly."

"And my father?"

"He had no idea of the bracelet, until it was given to you on your wedding day." He explained. "However, with that man running around and plotting to marry you, I was the perfect candidate for the groom."

I nodded. "Well, he did his best."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm guessing this means that we'll only be working together for a few more days."

A cold, sick feeling filled my stomach. I nodded. "Yes." I couldn't look at Sherlock. "I'll miss helping you."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Well, you could always stop by. You make a great secretary."

Those words mercilessly slashed my heart. I closed my eyes briefly before standing up. I had no idea why I suddenly felt this way. I wanted to desperately shove the hurt aside, but I couldn't do it, the pain remained.

I cleared my throat. "Yes. It'll be a great way for me to pay back whatever it is you spent on my wardrobe."

He shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead. As hard as Sherlock tried, he couldn't keep his hair tidy. "That's not necessary."

"As you noted Mr. Holmes, I'm a stubborn woman. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get this house looking somewhat decent."

He nodded. "Alright, I'll let you get back to work."

I walked away, refusing to look back, hating myself for suddenly feeling this way. I don't know what it was. then, I reflected back on how I'd addressed Sherlock. I'd called him Mr. Holmes. Why, had I gone back to an impersonal title? Why? Why had I done that? Was I putting up a wall around my heart? And if so, why was I putting it up where he was concerned?

And the heartbreak begins.