Chapter 2

So far so good~ let's roll! :)

Holmes stood beside the body of a woman in the city mortuary with a lost look in his austere gray eyes. He had been examining her for the past minutes since his arrival and the longer he looked, the longer the crease on his eyebrow deepens. Behind Holmes stood Clarky and Inspector Lestrade. They too have been standing there since they escorted the detective to enter.

Another minute, and then Holmes emerged from his thoughts and looked inquiringly at the Scotland Yard people.

"Well, Holmes?" Inspector Lestrade started as Holmes walked near them, "Found any clues?"

"That being asked then yes I did, though I might have found what you have already found. She had her eyes removed and she's dead. Quite the obvious, isn't?"

Lestrade gave him a look of impatience and at the same time flushed red on his cheeks.

"But-" Holmes continued as he saw the danger sign, "It would probably interest you to know that she died of poison- mere smell of cyanide irks my senses. That is the only difference of her death with that of the first body of a man who shared the same fate of having his eye sockets emptied. Also it would seem that her eye colour was of brilliant blue, I wonder if this has anything to do with anything at all."

"Of course it has," Lestrade said with a nod, "We have a criminal on the loose that's after eyes of different colour- maybe for collection purposes. The first victim seemed to possess a pair of green ones. Now we must do something about this, Holmes. The public's on panic they think there's a threat out there ready to rip them off their sights-"

Holmes gave Lestrade a frown.

"I do not think of such. I think the death of the man over there was not a planned murder and the removal of the eyes was only as an afterthought, like a woman's last touch to her crochet. Now this body here… does not have much to tell which means it was an intended murder, but for a reason… taking off her eyes to look the same as the first disposed body. As the question we should all be asking is 'why' I'd very much like to know the reason for the murderer's second act…" he seemed to be talking to himself now.

"What of the identity?" Lestrade continued after a short pause from hearing the detective's deduction. "The man we are able to recognize as a baker from Southford Hill. The woman on the other hand eludes our-"

"She's a chamber maid from North east, working near the Grand hotel grill by the smell of her sleeves that give me scent of something being roasted. Her hands were also very clean and roughly used so she must have done a number of chores. And that is the only place where they have roast beef with a very strong spicy flavour for anyone but my liking."

Lestrade looked at Clarky and then nodded. Holmes eyed the two and then turned quietly around as if he just remembered something that he must do without saying a word to the other men.

"Where are you going, Holmes?" Inspector Lestrade called all of a sudden.

"I'm off to work, if that is not so obvious." Holmes called as he raised a hand and bid the two an unceremonious farewell.

*.*.*.*

Watson arrived home at Cavendish place shortly after his visit to Baker Street. He was greeted by Mary who came from the living room as he was hanging his top hat on the stand near the doorway.

"Dear, how was your visit with Sherlock?" Mary asked as she accompanied him to the living room where they sat on the sofa. "Is he alright?"

"Never been better." Watson replied as he smiled at the lovely wife, "I gave him a case to set his mind at ease."

Mary smiled at him too.

"Then if your old friend is at ease, would you also be at ease now?"

Watson stared inquiringly at her as if he doesn't have inkling as to what she was saying. Mrs. Watson smiled quietly at her husband and then touched his arm.

"You cannot hide it from me. I am aware that you were very upset when you've heard that he tried to hurt himself once again."

Watson sighed as he slowly nodded at the deduction of his wife.

"He likes an eccentric life, that man. Imagine rolling out of the roof top for gravity-?"

"I know." Mary touched his head gently, "And whenever he is like so, you tend to become really worried. I think I now believed what he meant when he told me you were his 'mother hen'."

Watson chuckled.

"Luckily I know him well enough to believe that he would not hurt himself unnecessarily for he is indeed very fond of himself. But it worries me that his curiosity would get the best of him. Sometimes I actually see him dead before me."

"He won't be." Mary assured him as she kissed him on the cheek, "He is a fine man…over on his own head."

"Indeed." Watson turned to his wife again, "I also worry of what will happen in the earth if Sherlock Holmes were to disappear. I expect it would be a very dull one, full of crimes unsolved."

Mary held the eyes of his husband with a smile playing on the side of her mouth.

"It is true," she muttered wisely, "You are very fond of him."

Watson chuckled once more.

"If I hadn't been I would have left him the first time we met, dear."

"Then why not go and come with him, I do not mind too much as long as you return home for dinner."

"Oh no, I am a family man, my dear." Watson gave her a weak smile, "It is righteous that I stay with my lovely wife than with the ever so messy detective."

"Your words, my love, but I know your heart and I know that it would always follow him to the ends of his adventure."

Watson gave her a warm smile and they share a kiss.

*.*.*.*

Sherlock Holmes looked up the pub where he found himself in moments later.

The pub was crowded and the stench of alcohol was strong. Holmes almost smiled at this.

"The smell of that very alcohol reeking in this very place," he told himself as he found an empty table to sit in. After a moment of observing the place, Holmes took out his cigar and lit it. He smoked it for awhile and then said, "Do you think I would not notice the game you are playing?"

He eyed the person suddenly sitting with him on the same table. The mysterious person was wearing a black cloak with his hood on, his face hidden in the shadow. Holmes blew on his cigar with his eyes transfixed at the man.

"You have good eyes, Mr. Holmes." said the hooded figure.

"You have no idea." Holmes answered calmly. "I have seen enough to tell you who you are."

"Indeed?" the hooded man chuckled and tilted his head on his right side. "Who am I?"

"As to who you are, you are a resident of this very pub, judging by how neat and almost unruffled your cloak is, you never came from the outside. You work for an underground organization dealing with drugs and you recently came from the west, judging by that different accent of yours and that huge amount of cocaine hiding beneath your cloak. I can very well see it from here as though teasing me from above all the smell in this place; its scent is the most seductive to me. Your organization is unknown to everyone judging by that symbol on your crest, an eye? You want people to recognize you. And you did those two crimes only to… correct me if I'm wrong, to lure me out of my sanctuary? To tease me on this game."

The man in the hood did not say anything but merely sat there in silence as though in awe. Holmes smoked on his cigar again and then said after awhile,

"My apologies for startling you, but your business with me are so clearly seen that I find it almost a waste of my time. Though I can tell you that I will not let you go anymore, seeing as you murdered already two of the citizens under my protection."

"Impressive." The mysterious guy said nodding a little, "It is indeed foolish of me to have shown myself in your presence, detective."

Holmes nodded.

"But I worry not about you not letting me go." the man in the hood said after awhile.

"And what makes you think I would not arrest you?" Holmes asked almost testily. He had not yet finished the question when he noticed some people stir from all the side of the pub and heading directly toward his table. "Ah." He muttered as he raised both his eyebrows to heaven.

The guy in the hood leaned on the table to him.

"I would ask you to be patient, Mr. Holmes." he said in a very deep voice, "and that you continue this game we are playing. But since you almost know about our organization, it would please my master to think that it is time for you to serve your purpose."

"Meaning to kill me." Holmes blew his smoke calmly as his other hand caressed his cane beside him. "I understand everything perfectly. Are you also going to rip my eyesight away?"

"Amusing." chuckled the man, "But I sense that you don't take our threat seriously anymore, detective. I suggest you change your mind about it, or we change ours."

"Instead of wasting time then why not jump directly to me?" Holmes raised his eyes at the man as he felt the movements of some people around going near. "That would save us both the trouble."

"I don't think the panic we have issued is enough, Mr. Holmes."

"Of course."

"Now, I wonder if you're familiar of that beautiful pair of eyes from Cavendish place. I heard a newly married couple reside that place and they bear astonishing colours. They would be the perfect couple to-"

Holmes jaw was set as he realized what the man was talking about and without further ado he toppled the table on the man's face and took out his cane. He instantly hit the man behind him who was aiming for his head, and then punched the guy on his left. The pub went on chaos as the fight issued. Out from the corner of his eyes he saw the man in hood stood up and hurried away. He was about to follow him when he felt a hand on his right ankle. He looked down and saw the guy he just hit holding on him like an octopus. He raised his cane and hit him unconscious and then made to follow the guy once more, but not before he felt a blow on his right side that made him dizzy. He fell on the floor with a thud. Looking up he saw the man who hit him with a bottle that shattered to pieces on the floor. With great effort, Holmes pulled himself together and kicked the guy on the middle. He was yet to follow the man in hood again when a strong smell of gas caught his nose. He then stood up and blended in the number of people going out of the pub.

He had not yet gone out of the entrance when there was a deafening explosion from the inside that threw him down the ground. The explosion was so strong that he could feel its heat setting him on fire. He protected his head as people around shouted, ran and cried. He felt something heavy fall on top of him and it was all he could do to stop himself from passing out.

He heard a number of siren, and after that there was no more.

-TBC-

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