Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 5- Clearly, I Have No Choice In The Matter.
It must have been morning when I woke. A soft light came from a window, allowing me to see dust that lingered in the air.
My head was pounding like a drum. The room surrounding me was not familiar in any way. Panicking, I attempted to move my body but it was firmly tied to a chair.
"I see your up." the low voice came from the corner of the room.
Thats right. Memories flashed by that reminded me of the prior night and how I was caught simply because of bad timing.
"You've been out for quite awhile." The figure came out of the shadows to reveal Sherlock Holmes.
I couldn't help but to bare my teeth at him. Capturing me so easily. It was such a disgrace.
He leisurely pulled up a chair next to me and began to get his pipe ready.
"You want one?" He asked politely.
I spat on the ground in response. "Your tobacco is no better than dirt."
How could he be so relaxed with Black Rose under his household.
"Friendly," he mumbled while lighting the pipe.
He blew the smoke into a ring and rested back in the chair.
Taking his moment of relaxation, I looked around the room. There used to be another man with him. He had a firm manner about him that looked very respectable.
"Where's your pet," I asked.
"Watson? Ah. He had to talk to his girlfriend about last night but he'll be back shortly and we'll start this."
I sat back and stared at the smoke stricken ceiling. A few moments later I heard the door softly click open and a man with a bushy mustache and a long cane. Judging by his appearance he must have been, or is, a doctor.
"How hard did you hit him? He's been out all night."
"Not that hard. I thought I went a bit easy on him," He snickered.
He was messing with my emotions, trying to tell how far he could push me. I diverted my attention to a small photograph of beautiful woman. Unlike everything else in the room, it wasn't covered in dust.
"Your the Black Rose right?"
I knew he was going to ask this question eventually but I was slightly taken back when it was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
"Yes." There was no use in lying.
"Who?"
I spun my head round at this question. His friend had asked the question. How dare he not know me? Holmes seemed to be thinking the same thing.
"Black Rose. Famous con, thief, and overall escape artist.... You haven't hear of it have you?"
"Maybe a bit on the streets but no, never."
I gave a sigh. How disappointing. How many years had I been at it? Like 12? And yet here was a man of London who did not know of me.
I could feel the anger fill me. Reaching in the very seam of my jacket, I pulled out one of the thinest spikes I had and flicked it at Watson.
There was a tremendous crash as Holmes took a silver tray that held tea and quickly put it between Watson and the needle.
Holmes had gotten up and began to tie my hands back to the chair. Watson hadn't a clue what had happened until his eyes spotted the silver sliver on the floor. He bent over and picked it up then examined it and handed it over to Holmes who looked it over more throughly.
I could tell the wheels in his head were already spinning.
He clasped his hands together and put his elbows on his knees.
"As you know you are pretty high on the wanted list."
I stayed silent.
"I could easily hand you over to them." My mind was already aware of this but since he hadn't given me up yet then we probably wasn't in the future. Some other plan then...
"I just want to ask you a few question before Lestrade and his men get you," he paused almost contemplating what to say, "How did you get to the window?"
I thought he would ask a better question then that. "Roof."
He thought a bit more. "Are you with that pawn shop owner?"
"Friends with benefits."
"Ah. I thought that was it... Now... Were did you get this," he held up the needle in front of me, "and where did you get the poison on it?"
"I sculpted them for a certain size. The poison... from a friend," I lied. Well it wasn't necessarily a lie. He wasn't a friend.
Confusion passed against his face but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
"What friend?"
I kept my silence and looked straightforward allowing no expression or irregularities to show.
"Hm. Watson. Meet with me in my room." With that said he left toward his room. Watson, a bit more reluctant to go, sighed and followed him shutting the door behind him.
I don't see the difference between him interrogating me and the police interrogating me. They both ask stupid questions. Maybe Holmes isn't what they all say he is...
As I sat thinking of how dull the room was I heard a bit of intensive talking from the other room. It was too muffled to be able to tell what was happening but it soon died down.
Watson looked a bit huffed as they re entered.
"Despite arguments," Watson shot him a look, "we can come to a proposition. You can either weather it with Lestrade and is men."
Well thats not terribly bad. I probably die though, but thats what happens while you make a fool of the law.
"Or. You become indebted to me."
That wasn't expected. "Whats entitled with that?"
"Help me on cases, do whatever I need you to do, I haven't decided quite yet on the details."
This was a perfect opportunity to avoid death. But yet, he had something up his sleeve. It had to benefit him somehow. I racked my brain for various things that he might do but couldn't decide on one. But putting that aside, his intellect would help me refine my own skills.
I sat for a moment letting all these thoughts soak in and swirl around.
"Your answer," Holmes firmly said.
I looked at his face, in his eyes. "Clearly, I have no choice in the matter. You've got a deal."
His eyes light up and smiled triumphantly while he got up from his chair. "Watson if you would." His friend narrowed his eyes but slowly crossed the room and began untying me.
"Of course I will have to ask you for all your weapons."
I groaned, this might take awhile.
Around 10 minutes later I had laid all the things that I had in position on the table. Surprising, it took up almost the whole table. They were evenly spaced out on the table. A growing silence began as Watson, Holmes, and I stared at the sure mass of the weaponry. 5 knifes, 20 needles, 1 revolver, 2 cannisters filled different poisons, and a wallet only holding a bit of money.
Maybe this was a bit too far, but it was what I carried around most of the time. Since all the weight was gone I felt a bit fore relaxed. It had been a long time since I had been relieved of those things.
I slumped down on the Davon port. (1)
"Quite a variety you had on you."
"I tend to carry what is needed. And you never know what you need."
"True."
An awkward silence still hung, along with the smoke and dust.
Holmes looked toward Watson. "Is your wife expecting you back?"
"Ah yes, Than you for reminding me. I shall be off then." He grabbed a blue coat and his cane which had been leading against a wall near the door. He seemed very hesitant about leaving his friend with a thief. Who wouldn't be?
"You sure you'll be fine?"
"Yes of course," He fiddled with a bow almost like he was waiting for him to leave.
"Alright. Send a message if you need anything."
Slowly he closed the door.
We waiting a bit and Holmes moved towards the window facing the street, watching as he left.
He clasped his hands together. "Lets get started."
I had the feeling that I was in for a hell of a day.
A/N
I have fun writing this. Next chapter will probably be up in a giffy so get yourself ready. What is Holmes gonna make him do!!?!?!
Oh so the magically translation fairy will be helping you guys along with terms that are strange.
So.
Davon Port- British slang for the couch or sofa. (my grandparents used to say it.)
Please review!! Your reviews are like my nicotine!