**THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REVISED! If you have already read it, please begin re-reading from the first divider!**
It seems that this story already has a following bigger than any of my other stories, so it will be one of my top priorities! Thank you all so much for being so supportive! Review Please!
Also, I'm sorry that there have been such big gaps between the publishing of each chapter. I'm trying to make a case that actually flows, so I've been doing lots of brainstorming. That combined with plenty of schoolwork is just becoming a bit hectic.
This chapter is brought to you in part by The Beatles! Their music influenced where I went with this chapter. Go listen to them!
When we arrived back at the apartment and walked back upstairs to Sherlock's room, I gave him a stern look.
"What?" He said, sitting in a chair and pulling out his pipe.
"Aren't you forgetting something, cousin?" I smiled at him, but kept my eyes in glare mode.
He grumbled and got up, taking off Watson's coat and handing it to me.
"Thank you ever so much!" I smiled and handed Watson his coat back.
He chuckled, "Quite a short leash you've got him on, hm?"
"I think it's just the right length. Now then, back to the case. What can we safely assume based on what we found?"
"Mr. Jacobson lied to us for one thing; he was the one having an affair, not his late wife." Sherlock said, digging through a pile of dirty clothes looking for a new coat.
"Also, Mrs. Jacobson was likely poisoned over a long period of time with the Thallium we found in the basement." Watson added.
"Right… but Mr. Jacobson doesn't seem the type to be conspiring, don't you think? He seems much too introverted and skittish."
Sherlock pulled an old coat from the bottom of the heap, "That is true… perhaps it was another? Our suspects so far are Mr. Jacobson and Ms. Morstan."
Watson flinched at the mention of her name, but kept composure. I was a tad worried for him. He seemed a very respectable man. Why this Mary Morstan had even considered cheating on him is beyond me. He is very smart, and a good man. Not so bad looking either… Good lord, what am I thinking? I need to focus on the case…
Mrs. Hudson called us down to dinner, and I tried to focus the conversation on more trivial things than the case, taking into consideration Watson's emotional reaction to the mentioning of Ms. Morstan.
"You really need to visit America in the near future, cousin. The air there is so much fresher! The people are of a great variety of backgrounds and together provide a most interesting experience."
"Perhaps, little Abby, you should take dear Watson with you on your next trip? I think he could use a bit of a break." Holmes said calmly, but I could tell he was inwardly smirking.
Watson looked up from his plate at the mention of his name in the same sentence as mine, "America? I have wanted to go for some time… but not for a while, I have things to attend to here."
I tried my best to keep from looking a bit disappointed as I continued eating.
After dinner, I bid the two gentlemen goodnight and headed upstairs to my new room. I quickly got dressed for bed and was very grateful not to have to sleep on a rocking ship tonight.
There was a woman standing over me. Her face was thin and her hair was strawberry blonde in the moonlight. The pain in my side was growing. I noticed blood in her hair and on her hands. My hands desperately groped for my gun as I worried about the others. I knew that was Watson's blood on her, and that made me ache worse. She dragged me up and put me on a chair. Smiling strangely, she pointed to the other end of the room. I looked and saw Sherlock and Watson on the floor, blood surrounding the both of them. "No!" I shouted. Tears streamed down my face as I rushed towards them. I heard the last gunshot before I felt it ripple through my weak body. Then it all faded away.
I awoke from the nightmare drenched in sweat. My breath was ragged and my knuckles white from where I'd been clutching the sheets.
The knock on the door made me jump, "*ahem* c-come in…"
A very worried looking Watson opened the door, "Are you alright? I heard you shout something. You look as though you've seen a ghost!" Walking forward, he put his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever. He then grabbed my wrist and measured my pulse, "Your heart rate is a bit fast, but you seem to be alright."
"I had the most horrible nightmare…" I said, relieved that it had all been a dream.
"Come with me downstairs, I'll fix you some tea."
He helped me out of bed and we quietly walked down the stairs, his arm around my waist supporting me. I sat down at the small kitchen table as he put on the water and got out cups. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, trying to recall what had terrified me so much in my dream. Watson sat down beside me just as I remembered what I'd seen. I gasped and opened my eyes.
He looked at me, "Are you sure you're alright? Do you want to talk about whatever made you so scared?"
I then became aware that I was trembling. Watson took my cold hands in his and looked me in the eye, "It's going to be alright. Everything's fine. Now, what happened in your dream?"
His warm hands were comforting, "I… I was lying on the ground… I think I'd been shot. There was a woman over me, and she dragged me to a chair. That's when I saw it… blood everywhere… and…" I was choking up, "Sherlock and you were…" I couldn't say it. Saying it made it seem so much more real.
Warm arms enveloped me as Watson hugged me tightly. His scent engulfed me and I felt much calmer. My shaky breath became steady as he whispered, "It's alright… it was only a dream…"
The kettle was whistling and Watson stood up to pour the water for our tea. I was starkly aware of the cold kitchen as our warm embrace broke. He handed me a cup of tea and sat beside me again. The tea warmed me, but I still felt cold… I wanted his arms around me again. The feeling of safeness invoked by his touch and smell was addicting.
We drank our tea in silence. I stood to go to bed, and he stood as well. I thanked him for his help and turned towards the door, walking upstairs to my room and going back to bed.
The next morning I awoke to the sound of gunshots. I got up quickly and grabbed my robe from my suitcase and put it on. Rushing down the stairs, I rounded the corner at the landing to see a very annoyed Watson pounding on Sherlock's door, "Holmes! Let me in! And please stop shooting things and poisoning my dog!"
"OUR dog, Watson!" Sherlock said from inside.
I sighed and walked up to the door, "What on earth is going on here?! Both of you, stop arguing! Sherlock, open the damn door already. Watson, calm down and go get us some tea."
Sherlock grumbled something on the other side of the door and it soon opened. Watson sighed and walked downstairs, seemingly annoyed.
I gave Sherlock a look, "Now, would you care to tell me why you were shooting something at," I glanced at the clock above the mantle, "Seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday?"
He set down the gun on a table filled with little pieces of metal and screws, "I've been in the process of creating attachments for my gun that make it do certain things. For example, a gunshot silencer," I followed his gaze to a strange tube attached to the front of his gun.
"Well, it doesn't seem to be working." I said, still a bit annoyed.
"That is exactly what Watson said about it the first time I tested it! Anyway, it is still in development," He said just as Watson walked in with a tray of tea for the three of us.
"Thank you Watson, I do hope this is not a normal occurrence?" I said apologetically.
"If you mean Holmes' complete disregard for personal time and space, then I'm afraid it is very regular." His face suggested annoyance, but his tone had a hint of humor to it.
I shook my head, smiling ever so slightly before I poured myself a cup of tea and added a few teaspoons of sugar. Taking a large gulp, which woke me up immensely, I thought to myself, it is certainly going to be a long day…