I'm sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter - Christmas and family commitments did take over somewhat over the last week or so... But I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's posted a review so far, especially he anonymous guest/reader who suggested I change the category this comes under (I've done as you suggested now :P) - thank you so much for all your kind words, guys. It really does mean a lot :) And thanks for sticking with me so far! Here's hoping you enjoy this chapter too :)
A steady stream of letters continued to arrive at irregular intervals over the next few months for Sherlock; most came via Baker Street, but Lestrade received another couple as well, providing endless amusement for the officers at the station, and Sherlock had to suffer a multitude of sniggered comments about the identity of the letter writer and their relationship with Sherlock. Outwardly at least, Sherlock appeared to ignore the not so subtle whispers about love letters (An idiotic idea naturally. Why would he waste time with something so needlessly dull?), and apart from an extremely faint blush which stained his cheeks at the thought of Irene writing him a love letter, he managed to keep his composure and carry on as though nothing had changed.
Which wasn't strictly true… Although externally nothing about him had changed, inwardly there was chaos. He found it hard to believe how much of an effect the presence or absence of an envelope could have, and if he hadn't been so frustrated by the whole thing he would have found this chance to study the effects of sentiment on intellect mildly interesting. He didn't know how she'd done it, but Sherlock had discovered that his mood for the rest of the day was now more or less dependent on the arrival of the postman.
On those days where there was no post for 221B, or just the usual tedious bills and letters he left John to deal with, Sherlock found himself scowling at all and sundry, withdrawing into himself until John was lucky to get two words out of him.
When a letter from her arrived, however, the scowls were replaced with faint smiles and deliberately blank expressions in an attempt to maintain his habitual cool façade. And while John wouldn't say that the arrival of a letter made Sherlock happy exactly (he'd yet to see anything short of a murder which could do that), it certainly made him a hell of a lot easier to live with.
If anyone had asked Sherlock, he would have said that the letters helped to alleviate his boredom by providing a form of distraction; the letters were from all over the world and he almost made a game out of trying to guess where the next letter would come from. Pointless, undoubtedly, as he'd be the first to admit, but mildly diverting as well. And while this was undoubtedly true, it wasn't the whole truth. Although he didn't examine the reasons behind it too closely, the simple fact was that Sherlock liked knowing where she'd been, liked seeing snapshots from her journey around the world.
And what a journey it had been…
From Arizona, she had travelled to South America, visiting Peru, Chile and Argentina; he'd received a letter from each.
Lima, Peru:
New continent, new identity, new me. I wonder what you would make of me blonde, Mr Holmes?
That had caused John to endure an unpleasant afternoon of Sherlock's scowls and sulks as his memories of Irene battled with new images of her blonde. He hadn't approved of the subsequent mental picture, and it had put him a foul mood, much to John's annoyance.
Santiago, Chile:
Contrary to popular belief, Mr Holmes, brunettes have more fun.
Bored in a hotel. Come find me. Let's have dinner…
Buenos Aires, Argentina:
I'm almost beginning to miss how repressed the British are; it makes the game that much more fun.
Speaking of repressed, how is Mycroft? I trust the British Government is keeping well?
Her journey had become much more erratic and harder to predict from there, which Sherlock could only approve of; he hadn't spent all that time and effort rescuing her from Karachi to have her throw it all away because she wasn't thinking. Although there was a part of him, albeit an extremely small part, which almost wanted her to get caught, just so he could stage another rescue. It would appear Mycroft had been right and that Sherlock had a weakness for 'Damsels in distress'.
Or perhaps just one damsel in particular…
Not that he would ever admit to such a thing. No. Sherlock would never acknowledge any weakness of his own if he could help it. But that didn't mean that it wasn't there, niggling at the back of his mind.
Sentiment… He knew it would prove to be a disadvantage.
Victoria City, Hong Kong:
I saw a Businessman today. He reminded me of you. I think it was the cheekbones.
Dhaka, Bangladesh:
What are you thinking about right now? Just what is going on in that big, sexy brain of yours?
Cairo, Egypt:
Stuck with another, boring businessman. What has happened to all the interesting men?
Hop on a plane and join me. Cairo looks beautiful in the moonlight. Let's have dinner
Paris, France:
The sight of that postmark caused his heart to give a slight skip as he read it, and he frowned. Ridiculous. As was the small inner voice which had voiced the hope that she might visit. But that idea was not only absurd, it was reckless. She couldn't visit, shouldn't visit. Not if she wanted to stay safe. Shaking off those thoughts (why should he care anyway?), he turned his attention back to the letter instead, which was shorter than usual.
Beginning to agree with Dorothy.
"Who's Dorothy?" Startled, John glanced up at Sherlock.
"I'm sorry?"
"Who is Dorothy?" Sherlock repeated, enunciating clearly as he flicked his gaze to John.
"How should I know…?" His friend asked slowly, completely baffled. "What's the context?" Sherlock hesitated for a moment, before reluctantly handing over the letter, his piercing blue gaze never leaving John. Confusion quickly shifting to surprise, the doctor took the note and scanned it eagerly. Reading it, however, didn't make anything clearer. They hadn't even signed their name for Christ's sake…
"Well?" Sherlock's impatience was clear, and clearing his throat, John thrust thoughts of the mystery writer aside. At least for the moment.
"Well… The only Dorothy who springs to mind, assuming your… friend's not referring to one of your acquaintances, is Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz." His flat mate simply looked blank, an eyebrow arched expectantly at John. "Dorothy? Owns a black dog called Toto? From Kansas? Ruby slipper, killing the witches… None of this ringing a bell?"
"It's irrelevant."
"Like the Solar System?"
"Yes," the Consulting Detective replied dismissively, taking the letter back and gazing at the single line with a faint frown. "Now, what does this character have to do with this?"
"Well…" John scratched his nose and shrugged. "I'm not sure… Only thing I can think of is that quote. 'There's no place like home.'"
"What?" Suddenly alert, Sherlock narrowed his eyes a little as he gazed at John.
"That's what Dorothy says in 'The Wizard of Oz'. 'There's no place like home'." Taking a sharp breath, Sherlock slowly released it, eyes widening in understanding.
"Oh."
"Sounds like your friend's missing home. Wherever that is." And whoever they are John added silently. "Where's that one from anyway?"
"Paris."
"That close?" He watched Sherlock carefully for a minute, curiosity and good manners warring within him for a moment. Curiosity won, and he quickly added; "Do you think they'll come and visit?"
"No," came the short reply, and folding the letter, Sherlock slipped it into his pocket, picked up his violin and began tuning it. The conversation was over.
Moratuwa, Sri Lanka:
The countryside here is very picturesque. You should visit. Let's have dinner.
Pakse, Laos:
I'm disappointed you didn't wear your deerstalker the last time we met. I'd have liked to see you in thatridiculous hat one last time.
"Do you ever reply?"
"Reply…?" Sherlock hadn't even bothered to glance up at the question; he'd been expecting one like it for a while and had been fleetingly surprised John had resisted asking it for so long.
"To the letters."
"No."
Venice, Italy:
You'd like it here. It's busy, but peaceful; it feels a little like stepping back in time. I met a violin maker yesterday who showed me around his workshop. I think the two of you would have gotten on well.
Or perhaps not; it depends whether or not you're a jealous man. He was hardly subtle…
Despite their mundane topics and the brevity of the notes, Sherlock found himself learning a little more about Irene Adler, the real Irene Adler he'd first glimpsed in the living room of 221B. And these small insights into The Woman merely intrigued and frustrated him further. He didn't fully understand her, and he hated not understanding…
And still the letters kept arriving.
Geneva, Switzerland:
All this bureaucracy is rather wearing. What happened to good old-fashioned bribery?
I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner.
Al Bahah, Saudi Arabia:
Apparently I am worth 20 camels. What do you think, Mr Holmes? Would you pay that much for me?
Budapest, Hungary:
Sending you a gift, Mr Holmes. Think of it as a belated Christmas present.
That was the last letter he received for almost two weeks, and in that time Sherlock had managed to drive himself and everyone around him, mad. Again. His formidable mind wouldn't stop puzzling over the possible forms her present could take. A hundred ideas streamed through his head in the fortnight of silence from Irene, each more ludicrous than the last. Withdrawing further into himself, it wasn't until the arrival of the final letter that he seemed to re-join the real world once more.
Unlike the others, this letter had been hand-delivered; no address or postmark marred this envelope, just his name in her now familiar, elegant hand. Narrowing his eyes slightly as Mrs Hudson passed it to him he had stared at it for a heartbeat – could this be his present…? – before ripping the envelope open. The only thing it had contained was a note of one word.
Doorstep.
So! One final chapter and then this story is finished I think. Which is quite sad :( I've enjoyed writing this. Oh well - I shall endeavour to finish writing the final chapter ASAP. Watch out for an appearance by a very lovely someone in the next chapter ;) ^-^