Quite a long time chapter because I was bored at work! Enjoy…Music97 x

Chapter five. Paris

The crossing was uneventful; Alice slept much of the way. I spent the majority of my time gazing out on to the ocean. I felt peculiarly melancholy all the way; as if my world was slowly slipping away and all I could do was watch. I thought of Holmes with a mixture of fear and loathing. I wanted to see him, but I was not sure if when I saw him I would embrace him or hit him. The sea air helped clear my thoughts somewhat by the time we arrived in France. The journey to Paris was calmer than I thought, Alice stared vacantly out of the window, I was a little worried about her as she had not said two words since we had left England. I stared at her with a new sense of interest, she was Holmes' niece. This frail, other-worldly creature was a Holmes. It was difficult to believe, I did not doubt Mycroft's word – I knew better than that, but still. I did not know what she had gone through and why Holmes had sent her, maybe he wanted me to know the truth but it was still a callous way to treat his niece. My anger began to grow as we neared Paris, I could feel Holmes' presence and I longed to lay eyes on him. I checked us into the hotel Mycroft had provided for the duration of our stay. Alice looked around her with an air of boredom, as if all this grandeur was simply a day to day occurrence. It may have been for all I know, who knows what she had been, Mycroft had said she had been ill brought up, but her bearing and the way she held herself all spoke of a well-brought up lady. My mind swam with thoughts of her past, her lineage. Our rooms were conjoining, an idea which seemed to comfort Alice as she kept opening the joining door as if to check I was still there. I smiled as warmly as I could, but I was anxious for a note from Holmes. It finally arrived four hours after our arrival in Paris. I almost snatched the note from the boy's hand, then rather unceremoniously flung some francs at him. Alice heard the commotion and hung on the joining door, looking sheepishly at me. I sighed and flung the note to the floor, it said to keep Alice with me and Holmes would join us as soon as he was able. I motioned to Alice to come in; she shuffled towards me, dragging her left leg. I looked curiously at her; I had never noticed her do that before. She sat on the edge of my bed, never taking her eyes from me.

"May I look at your leg Alice?" I knelt in front of her and took her foot in my hand, her watery eyes following my fingers as I traced them up her leg. It was badly swollen and scarred. The scars were not new, but her leg had evidently been broken at some point and had not healed correctly. I frowned, Alice mimicked me.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked, and quickly removed my hand, causing her leg to fall sharply; she winced as it hit the ground.

"Lift you leg up for me Alice." I watched as she tried and failed to lift her leg higher than an inch. Before I had time to do much more, the door swung open, revealing Holmes. He smiled as he saw me kneeling in front of Alice.

"Has my niece captured your heart Watson?"

I stood, feeling my face flush. Holmes bent to kiss Alice on the head, her face radiated with joy when she saw him. He sat next to her and took her hands,

"And how are you?" His voice was gentle and reassuring; the smile never left his face. I had seen Holmes be more than chivalrous with women, but this was different. Then he had been detached, using his charm to disarm and cajole without any real feeling. Now there was genuine affection in his eyes and he seemed to really be concerned with Alice and what she would say. Alice in turn, seemed equally transfixed by her uncle. Behind her vacant eyes one could almost make out the girl that used to be, intelligent and beautiful, then just as quickly it was gone, replaced by the girl in pain and without hope. She nodded at Holmes who moved a stray hair from her face with almost fatherly tenderness. He then turned to look at me, the smile gradually slipping away from his features. He let Alice's hands drop and stood. I felt useless; he walked over to me and took my hand.

"Thank you Watson, for taking care of her. I knew you would." He smiled and I smiled back, I could not let go of his hand for fear that if I did he would again be gone and all the confusion I felt when he wasn't with me would return.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" I kept my voice quiet, aware Alice was looking at me. Holmes' face remained impassive as he released my hand, he turned to Alice.

"I want you to go to bed, while the doctor and I go out for a while," Alice's face took on a pained expression, Holmes held her face in his hands, "We won't be gone for long."

He raised her and walked her over to the edge of the bed, where he removed the bed clothes and then seated her again; he knelt in front of her and removed her shoes, with a tenderness I had always thought him impossible of. She let him push her onto the bed and cover her over, she looked up longingly at him, he stroked her hair and then bent over and lightly brushed his lips across her cheek. She smiled and closed her eyes. Holmes watched her for a moment then motioned to me to follow him. I picked up my coat and hat and followed; he closed the door gently behind us and locked it.

We walked out into the cool Parisian night, Paris never ceased to amaze me, I had been a few times before, once with Holmes before the war, and it always struck me as being a city that smiled. Never did I feel stifled or trapped as I often did in London. The air soothed me, Holmes led me to a nearby café and sat at a table outside, he ordered two coffees from the waiter in perfect French, before he looked at me.

"You have seen Mycroft then?" I nodded.

"How did you expect me to find you if I had not gone to see him, you must have been sure that I would, else how would I have discovered Alice's identity. You didn't have to lie to me Holmes." I felt tense and angry; I could give no rational reason for it other than utter exhaustion. Everything Holmes did angered me.

"I did not lie."

"In your note you called her 'the girl' and gave her surname as Kendall, not Holmes."

"And so her surname is Kendall, it was given to her by the people who adopted her."

"She does not know who her father is then?"

"She knows, but we thought it would be less confusing for her to keep her adopted name. Alice is not what Sherrinford called her either, but I could not change the girl's name as well as the story of her birth in too short a space."

"What is her name?"

"Mary, as fate would have it, she was christened Mary Elizabeth Holmes."

"Why did you send her to me?"

Holmes ran his long fingers over the rim of his coffee cup before looking up at me,

"She was more than capable of finding you, she is a Holmes underneath all that frailty, and she was less likely to arouse suspicion." Holmes paused and took a breath, I waited, "And I needed Mycroft to accept her existence."

"Mycroft?"

"Yes, you are right, I knew you would go to him and I knew you would mention Alice. When I told Mycroft I had found her in a house of ill repute in Paris he refused to believe me, preferring her instead to be dead rather than destitute. I needed him to accept her; if I sent her to you and she survived it would prove it."

Suddenly the warm Paris air had grown cold, and the city stopped smiling. I sipped my coffee, not looking at him.

"If she survived?" My voice was almost a whisper, "Holmes, you were prepared to risk the life of the girl you knew to be your niece because you wanted to prove yourself to your brother?!"

"You make it sound so sordid Watson; you forget I had known the girl for a good many months. I knew she was capable, so I sent her."

"But her condition?"

"She has no condition Watson, she is merely in shock. She will be fine, with both of us to guide her." He looked at me over his coffee cup, desperation framing his dark eyes. I sighed.

"You know I would never abandon you – or her."

Holmes let out a smile and replaced his cup.

"Thank you Watson."

"What are we to do now?" I asked, still not clear on why Holmes had wanted me in Paris.

"I'm afraid Watson I must beg another favour of you. I still have much work to do for the foreign office and Alice must not yet be left on her own, she is still fragile. Take care of her, she relies on me and I see she trusts you."

"Very well, if that is all you wish me to do I will do it."

Holmes slapped his hand on the table causing the cups to jump,

"Good old Watson," He smiled, then he saw my face, "In all seriousness Watson, I know I take you for granted but I do not know what I would do without you. Thank you my friend."

I relaxed for the first time in I couldn't say how many months and smiled.

"You are very welcome. I have to say I do not know what my life would be like without you, I have had a taste of it these past few months and I have to say I have never been so bored with the mundanely stroll that life takes, so thank you Holmes."

His eyes took on the far away quality that was peculiar to his niece, and he cleared his throat.

"Come Watson, we will take a stroll before we return to our charge."

As we stood to leave, a boy of about sixteen ran into the back of Holmes. Holmes grabbed his neck and spun him around. Holmes admonished him in French to which the boy hurried a reply. Holmes' face took on a sour look as he released the boy and once more spoke to him in French, the boy avoided Holmes' gaze, again Holmes pushed whatever it was he was asking and again the boy remained silent. Eventually Holmes gave up and released the child, who scurried off into the crowd. Holmes watched him go until he was out of sight.

"What was that about?" I asked, following Holmes' gaze.

"Nothing Watson, nothing important anyway."

Holmes span on his heel and walked away, his head down. There was nothing for me to do but follow; I tore my eyes away from the crowd behind us and followed Holmes into the darkness.