Chapter nineteen: Matters of the heart

When I awoke, I was still snuggled into Sherlock's side. I glanced up at him to see he was reading a book, though; it must have been difficult for him as he had a hand on my shoulder. I shifted slightly and he looked down at me. "Good morning." He actually offered me a smile and he actually looked very charming from this position.

I covered a yawn behind my hand. "Good morning." He removed his arm from my shoulder and reached for the tray on his nightstand. He handed me my cup of coca as I straightened up. "Thank you. I didn't hear Mrs. Hudson come in."

'No." He stated calmly as he turned the page in his book. "She was actually silent for once."

I blew on my cocoa and took a sip of it. I glanced at him for a moment before saying. "I have a few questions about happened last night."

He closed his book instantly closing with a snap. "I thought you might have." At my curious look, he said. "Because you've always got this look in your eyes when you want to ask questions but aren't sure how to go about it."

"Pardon me if the drama prohibited me from asking these questions." I let out a quiet snort before asking. "How long….was I held by Moriarty?"

He seemed surprised that this was my first question. "No more than two hours. And for the record, I wasn't drunk."

"I knew it."

He frowned. "How did you know?"

"I've been struck before." I said as I took a sip out of my cocoa. "Yours was one of the softer ones I'd felt."

"Who hit you?" He asked a gentle demand in his tone of voice.

"It doesn't matter." I looked up at him to find him seriously studying me. I exhale and answer. "My father struck me once, but, it was my mother who'd smack me when I misbehaved as a child."

He rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine you misbehaving."

I laughed. "You'd be surprised. When I was younger, I wanted to be a pirate."

His brow arched. "Really?"

"Yes." I studied him. "What did you want to be?"

He bit his lip before admitting. "Pirate."

I chuckled. "Ain't the world a remarkable place?" I inhaled before saying. "You need to look out for someone else. Her name is Irene Adler."

He frowned. "She's the one who helped us find you. How would you know her full name? I don't recall mentioning it."

"My father told me to beware of her." I explained. "I thought she might have been working for Moriarty."

"Well, she was, in a way of sorts." He explained. "He was blackmailing her, she wanted out, so she turned him into us. Nothing extra ordinary about that."

I shrugged as I yawned again. "I guess not."

Mrs. Hudson banged on the door. Sherlock exhaled. "Come in!" He snapped in irritation. I swatted his shoulder gently. "What?"

"Be nice."

"Oh Sherlock," she said as she burst into the door. "there's a man, passed out in the library, who believes he killed a man when his car backfired."

Sherlock's brow arched with curiosity. "Fascinating." He got out of bed and turned to look down at me. "I'll try to solve this as quickly as possible."

I shook my head and waved him off. "No, don't worry about me." I shifted deeper into the covers and reached for his book. "You're a detective, a very busy man who helps people. My concerns should come last of all, especially after what you've done for me."

He frowned as he leaned forward until we were almost eye level with each other. "You said something similar to me when we hadn't even been married for three minutes." He said it, the dreadful 'm' word. "Did you mean it then?"

I nodded honestly. "I meant it then and I meant it now. Go on."

"Alright." He leaned forward slightly, as if he were going to kiss me on the forehead. But that didn't happen. He straightened up and walked out of the room. "I'll be back in time to take you to the theatre. I promise."

I nodded as I watched him depart. He hadn't kissed me, but I really wished he had. It was hard for me, to suddenly begin craving something that I wanted.

A hand on my shoulder caused me to jump. I whirled around and found Sherlock standing there, dressed to impress in his opera suit. He chuckled. "Still skittish I see."

"You walk like a cat." I exhaled deeply. "You startled me."

"I noticed."

I glowered at him. "I also had four men try to," his brow arched slightly in irritation. "well, they tried."

"And?" He asked. "What happened?"

"I informed them that I would set you on their trail and they all made a hasty departure into the theatre."

He chuckled. "Why am I not surprised? If you see them in the theatre, point them out to me."

"Never!" I proclaimed. "You'd torment them so badly."

"I'd do nothing of the sort." He took my elbow and guided me towards the door. "Shall we?"

"Yes." I tried not to notice how all eyes were following us and people were whispering behind their hands about us. "How did the case fair?"

"Oh, boring," I smiled at the tone in his voice. "the man hadn't killed anybody. He'd distracted the man who stupidly turned away from his boomerang."

"The boomerang hit him in the head," I supplied. "and he died."

"Yes. Rather stupid, he'd only just returned from abroad. Then, a woman named Helen Stoner appeared, hysterically claiming that she was going to die before her wedding."

"And?"

"Her stepfather was going to murder her." I gasped in horror. "He actually murdered her older sister."

"Why?"

"Because, he wanted their fortune." Sherlock took my wrap, his fingers brushing my neck as he removed it from my shoulders. I trembled and shivered slightly under his touch. "You changed perfumes didn't you?" I hesitated in answering him. "You usually wear something like jasmine. Am I right?" I could only nod. "But tonight, it's different."

I licked my lips and blurted. "Roses." I cleared my throat. "It's a new rose perfume."

"It suits you."

My blood runs cold and my stomach tightly clenches at Sherlock's voice. I didn't know what to do or say. I couldn't look at him and I was glad that he couldn't see that the expression on my flushing face. I found my voice. "Thank you. We should go in now."

"Yes." Sherlock took a hold of my arm, his thumb brushing the exposed skin above my elbow, causing my skin to shiver. He frowned at a man ahead of us. "I wonder what happened to that man's clothes. They're a decade old."

I chuckle and shake my head. "Maybe they got lost."

"Even if they did, why would someone keep a suit that's a decade old?" He questioned. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Sherlock, behave," I asked as we sat down in our seats, incidentally a few seats away from the man who's appearance Sherlock was criticizing. "please? A few hours without murder or speculation or anything of that sort?" Sherlock chuckled as he looked at me as I fidgeted in my seat."What?" I asked.

"You. You're nervous." I rolled my eyes and looked away from him as he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Relax. The show will start soon."

"Sorry." I said as I gripped my fan. "I've heard how marvelous she was and, I've never been in a theatre as grand as this before."

He bobbed his head. "True. Maybe," dear God, was he being hesitant? "you'd like to… attend some concerts." My heart paused in my chest at those words. "I hear that Rachmaninoff is bound to come this way soon. If you're interested."

The house lights dimmed at that moment and the orchestra started playing. I leaned towards him and murmured. "I'd love to."

He smiled at me and turned towards the stage as the curtain was rung up. There was a maid there, obviously reading something of a scandalous nature, as revealed by her eyes. Then, the door to the 'room' opened and Elise McKenna entered the room. I applauded along with the audience as she entered the stage

The man beside me, jolted upright in his seat for a moment before joining the other's in applause. I kept my applause brief, knowing it made it difficult for the actors to resume their parts of the character while waiting for the applause to die.

"Good evening miss!" the maid said loudly in rough accent.

"Not good at all." Elise said tightly. "Particularly bad." She fluttered her fan in irritation before removing her evening wrap. "I'll not go downstairs again."

"Oh, what is it miss?" the maid questioned in false sympathy.

Elise exhales as she moved towards her nightstand. "I've just been dining with the man my father is determined that I wed."

"Oh," the maid explained with so much enthusiasm that one would wish that she were in Elise's shoes. "banker Harwell!"

"Yes, banker Harwell, yes." Elise said drolly before exclaiming in irritation. 'All 67 years, 5 ft. 4 of height and several hundred pounds of him!" she throws her fan down at the nightstand before situating herself at the table.

Sherlock chuckled at Elise's antics as I attempted to muffle my laughter behind my hand. I always had a loud laugh and I couldn't get it under control. "He does have money though miss."

"And never lets a soul forget it." She reminds her. "I'm amazed he has the least desire to marry, he's so happily wedded to his gold."

"Well, perhaps it won't be all that bad miss." The maid was a hopeless friend, if she were a friend to the character. "There must be something you like about him."

"Yes!" She said instantly. "His absence." The audience laughs. I, however cannot, for it seems to remind me of my reactions to being told that I would marry Sherlock Holmes before getting a chance to refuse. But now, things had desperately changed in me, or so I'd thought. "Elise's face goes still and there's a sadly whimsical expression about her face. "The man of my dreams has almost faded now."

Her tone is so soft and gentle that she catches everyone's attention, their hearts in particular. I glanced at the actress playing the maid and saw the surprise on her face as well. She however quickly regained her composure to ask loudly. "And what man is that miss?"

"The one I have created in my mind." Elise murmured softly as she stands up and begins to walk slowly around to the front of the desk. "The sort of man…each woman dreams of in the… deepest, most secret reaches of her heart." She pauses near center stage, peering deeply into the audience as if looking for someone. "I can almost see him now before me." Her gaze, is so penetrating that I almost feel as if she were looking into our row. "What would I say to him…if he were really here?" I follow Elise's gaze and my eyes fall towards the tall, handsome, muscular young man sitting beside me. By the way his bright blue eyes are transfixed up on her, I have no doubt that Elise is speaking to him.

I feel as if I'm invading a private moment that I cannot get out of. All of us, the entire audience are being witness to a declaration. "Forgive me." I've never known this feeling. I've lived without it all my life." My hand dropped onto the arm of my chair, colliding with Sherlock's arm. "Is it any wonder then I failed to recognize you?" As I listened to her words, my heart grew and swelled in my chest. How could she know what I wanted to say, but couldn't find the words to say? "You brought it to me for the first time." My heart began pounding faster as she said what I so desperately wanted to say to Sherlock, but couldn't. "Is there any way…I can tell you how my life has changed? Any way at all to let you know what sweetness you have given me? There is so much to say…I cannot find the words. Except for these…. I love you."

I closed my eyes as tears ran down my cheeks. Elise McKenna, she was a brilliant actress. Her words chilled and broke my heart, especially as I sat there next to my husband. The man that I'd fallen in love with to know that he'd never love me. "And such would I same to him," Elise's voice broke with happy tears as she turned back towards her desk. "if he were really here."

The applause broke me back to the harsh reality of my situation. I couldn't stand it anymore. I jumped up and ran from the theatre without even looking back. I ran into the lobby, out the front door, but I turned sharply and headed straight towards the back entrance.

"Tammy?" Sherlock shouted. I just ran my hair flying free from the pins. I sobbed into my hands, muffling them somewhat, but not enough. I was sure my cries could still be heard in the night. "Tammy?" I ran and stumbled over a box. Before I fell to the ground, I felt Sherlock grab me around the waist, keeping me from falling. He spun me around, his face bore a mask of confusion. "Tammy? What are you doing out here? You're missing…. the play." His eyes narrowed. "You're crying."

"Obviously!" I snapped at him.

He frowned. "Why?"

I tried to pull free from him. "Just go away."

"Why?" he repeated.

"Because I demanded it of you!" I was now feeling anger with my hurt. "Please! Just go!"

"Do you always do this?" He questioned. "Do you always run out of the theatre crying at the end of the first scene?"

"No!" I dropped my gaze and rubbed my arms.

"You didn't like it?"

I exhaled and looked at the ground. "It was beautiful." His grip relaxed on my shoulders as I added. "And I hated it."

Sherlock frowned. "How can you hate something that is beautiful?" He immediately thought better of that question and shook his head. "Never mind, I know it's possible."

Somehow, I knew that he was referring to me. I was beautiful and he hated me. I bit my lip and added in a quiet voice, hating myself. "I can't believe….I'd forgotten him."

Sherlock's grip tightened. "You'd forgotten who?"

"Him." His grip on my shoulders was firm again as I whispered out. "The man of….my dreams."

He looked at me quietly before speaking softly. "You have me."

I trembled as I spoke the words that my head knew but my heart refused to accept. "Yes, for the moment, but, God only knows how long those moments are going to be."

For a moment, all I could hear were the sounds of crickets and the sound of people. After a few long, uncomfortable moments of silence, Sherlock spoke. "I've arranged for our marriage annulment to take place tomorrow at 10:30."

Lady Gisbroune 15: Feel free to rant, you've a right to do so. It was disgusting and unbearable. I've talked to a few popular POTO writer's that I am friends with and they are stoking the fires. One of them, has about 200 followers, so she will get the word around about this. I've had several people PM asking how they can help fight these spammers and get permission to remove reviews that we deem offensive. I'm going to start bringing attention to the Sherlock fandom. The material that all 35 writers were assaulted with was MA, and forbidden on here, yet they won't remove it! As soon as you repost your story, I will repost every single review I ever made for your story. You worked hard and you deserved the reviews.

But back to business, yes, things were going great with these two, until I decided to ruin everyone's night. Or rather Sherlock did, he has a mind of his own. I hope everyone appreciated my nod to 'Somewhere in time.' While I didn't want to do a crossover, it was obvious that I had to make a reference to the movie since I used Jane Seymour to perfect my image. It's my favorite movie with her and I just had to put my favorite scene in this fic.