Author's Note: Sadly, I do not have the honor of owning Sherlock Holmes. I hope you guys like this chapter!
Chapter 8 Escape Plan
Holmes was looking beyond this world and I could tell he was thinking of a way out of this predicament. It seemed Mr. Small would come to our aid without even meaning to.
"Is that ale?" Holmes asked suddenly, jerking his head towards the flask.
"Yeah, want some?" Small held out the flask. Holmes stood up and took a long sip, smacking his lips when he finished. I noticed that the flask was made of heavy metal, solid heavy metal…
"Very good ale, very good indeed," he said, drinking some more.
"Don't drink it all now!" Small said angrily, "Give that back!"
As he reached for the flask, Holmes sidestepped him and whacked Small on the back of his head with his own flask. Small didn't make a sound as he crumpled to the ground. I helped Holmes push the man to the side and we listened quietly to make sure the men outside our door did not come in to investigate the thud the flask had made on Small's head. But, to our advantage, the noise from the other rooms had drowned out the noise made in our room.
"Now we have to take care of the men outside the door," I said, "Without making too much noise."
"And we have to get my uncle," said Victoria, "They put him in the room next to mine."
"And then we have to get the rowboat and get away without being brought back," said Phillips.
"Give me a moment to think," said Holmes and he began pacing the room while we watched him.
"How is your head feeling?" Phillips asked, turning to get a better look at the welt on the back of Victoria's head.
"Sore but otherwise fine," she replied with a kind smile, "I guess I know how you felt when you woke up after being knocked on the head. Do you have any suggestions on how to stop the throbbing?"
"I have a plan!" said Holmes suddenly, cutting off Phillips' answer, "Watson, be ready to fight." Holmes went up to the door and banged on it, shouting in a very good impersonation of Small's thick drone, "Hey! The dog just went to the bathroom in here, someone get a bag and the other help me clean this up!" exactly
"All right, Cain, go get a bag to put the dog's deposits in!"
The other man named Michaels unlocked the door. He entered and Holmes and I lunged on him, knocking him unconscious with the flask like we did with Small. I dragged the men into a corner while Irene ripped the upholstery into strips to bind their arms and legs and to gag their mouths. Cain entered soon after and we made him unconscious too. Holmes took the keys from Cain's belt and slipped out with Irene behind him. Phillips made sure Victoria was able to walk while I looked over the dog. He seemed very happy to see me and even licked my face.
A couple of minutes later, Holmes and Irene appeared supporting another man. The new man was of medium height with graying auburn hair and freckles on his pale, wrinkled face. He wore thick glasses in front of golden brown eyes that were looking at Victoria with happiness.
"Victoria, my angel!" he said, finding the strength to walk over and embrace his niece, "Oh I was so worried about you!"
"I know," said Victoria, tears falling, "I was worried about you too."
"I'm sorry but we need to hurry before Professor Moriarty realizes his guards are not going to report to him," I said, wishing I did not have to cut their reunion short.
So, all of us managed to sneak up onto the deck and into the boat without being stopped or shot at. Holmes and I lowered the boat into the water and helped the others get in. Irene, the last one left besides Holmes and I, was about to get in when there was the sound of a gunshot and I felt a searing pain in my shoulder. I dropped to my knees, clutching my shoulder and felt a warm, sticky solution running down my hand.
"You really should not have tried to escape again Holmes!" Moriarty shouted, "Look what it is about to cost you."
"Watson!" Holmes said urgently as he dragged me behind a crate, "Are you all right?"
"Nothing I haven't endured before, Holmes," I said through gritted teeth. I had been shot at before during the Afghan war, but that did not mean it hurt any less.
"Well old chap, it seems as if the Professor and I are destined to face each other again," said Holmes with a grim smile.
"I will take him to the boat and come back," said Irene quietly, "You cannot face him alone. He has men backing him up and you need someone to do the same for you."
"No, I am putting everyone I care about on that boat and sending them to shore. I will not lose the people dearest to me tonight."
"Like I said, I will take the doctor and-"
"That includes you too, Irene," said Holmes, looking at her with his hawk-like gaze, "I will not lose anyone I love tonight. Take Watson and go."
"This is madness Holmes!" I said and felt my vision swimming as a wave of nausea tried to overcome me, "You cannot do this alone."
Irene and Holmes picked me up before I could protest and placed me into the boat that had pulled up alongside us. Irene looked at the detective and embraced him tightly before climbing into the boat. Not one eye was dry as Phillips paddled to shore, even Sherlock howled in sorrow. Suddenly, there was a shot and a splash. A cold feeling ran down my spine. A voice called out to us from the boat, a voice I wished to never hear again. The voice of Moriarty.
"The beloved detective is dead!"
Victoria let out a scream and sobbed uncontrollably into her hands. Irene wrapped her arms around the young woman, her face wet with tears. I turned slightly to see Phillips with shinning eyes and Sherlock whimpering as Mr. James petted the dog. He too had full eyes that were just starting to flood over. Sherlock Holmes, our friend, father, and hero, was dead.
We got out once we reached shore and turned back to the water. We could see the lights of the boat like fireflies on the water. I shuddered violently as Phillips supported me and he sighed.
"We should get back, the doctor needs medical attention as quickly as possible." Irene nodded and led an inconsolable Victoria onward. Mr. James and Sherlock followed while Phillips and I were last. We reached the house and went upstairs. Mr. James told Mrs. Hudson to send for a doctor and she nodded. Just before she left, she frowned and turned to Phillips.
"Where is Mr. Holmes?" she asked, "Will he be coming later then?"
Victoria, who had just started to calm down a little, broke into fresh sobbing and Mrs. Hudson realized that Holmes would not be coming back again. The landlady, who had never really gotten along with my companion, put a hand to her mouth to stop a quivering lip and apologized before swiftly leaving but not before a dry sob was heard.
About fifteen minutes later, one of my colleagues came into the room and started treating us. Or at least, I assume he treated the rest of the group. I was first priority and was given medicine to make me sleepy and unaware of my surroundings so the bullet could be removed. The last thing I remembered was searing hot pain of the bullet being taken out and blackness.
…
Days went by in mourning. Phillips filed his report of the case and managed to gather a search party to try and find Holmes' body. Obviously they had no luck, the Thames was the worst place for the police to find bodies. For the second time, I buried my friend without a body. The funeral was exactly a week after the event.
Victoria was not handling the death well. In just a week, she had dropped weight dramatically. When she did sleep, it was fitful and full of nightmares. Her uncle tried to be there for her, but the death was hard on him as well. Phillips did what he could to console Victoria, but it was not much. There is nothing you can really do to help a person in mourning except give them time.
Irene too was very upset by the death. She was staying in Baker Street until she could get back on her feet. I could tell she was a different person than before. It looked as if her life of crime was going to end.
As for myself, I was a mess. Immediately after the funeral, I walked to my old house and knocked on the door. I realized more than ever I needed Mary, I needed my wife. Our maid answered the door and showed me into the living room.
"The missus will be down in a moment," the maid said and I nodded.
I stood in front of the fireplace and looked at the photographs we had on the mantel. My eyes went instantly to my wedding picture. There were Mary and I in the middle, Mary looking like a perfect angel. And there, on my other side, was Holmes. He was my best man, although it took much cajoling. I laughed quietly as I remembered how much Holmes had opposed my idea of marriage. Then my laugh turned into a sob and I looked away from the picture, my hand over my face.
"John?" I looked up and saw my wife standing by the door, a look of concern on her face. "What's the matter? You don't look well, sit down, please."
I sat down on the couch beside her and took her hand in mine. We sat in silence for some time before I found my voice and was able to speak.
"He's gone Mary," I whispered, "I think he's really gone this time. Oh God, I just can't believe it! I keep thinking he will come back like the last time, but I heard that damnable man's voice say Holmes was…"
"Oh John," Mary said and embraced me.
"I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," I said, the words coming out like a waterfall, "I was going to sooner but my pride kept me away, and then I became sick and was bedridden for a week, and then I could not leave Holmes in the middle of a case."
"It's all right John, I forgive you. It was such a stupid argument, I knew there was a good reason why you did not come back sooner."
Mary and I talked for hours, until it was almost dusk. I explained to her that I had to go back, that I could not leave Victoria with only her uncle just then. They were waiting until the end of the month before moving back to their old home. Then there was Mrs. Hudson who needed help getting the affairs in order. With me living in my own home and Holmes no longer there, she needed to rent the rooms out to new tenants. Irene had announced yesterday that she was going to South America to start over.
"I can't stand being here anymore," she had explained with tearful eyes, "There are too many memories, ones that I want to forget so badly. Plus, I can start over again with a clean slate."
Mary understood and told me she would be here when I got back. I thanked my wife profusely for her unwavering kindness and made my way back to Baker Street. I reached the door and just as I was looking for the key, I heard a commotion from behind me. Turning, I saw a gang of young men surrounding a hunched, withered, old beggar woman.
"Hey!" I shouted and ran over with my cane raised, "Stand back, leave the woman alone!" They did not really listen until I pulled put my pistol and clicked the lock off. That managed to scare them away. I saw the woman was sporting a good deal of cuts and a bruise was forming around her right eye. I got her to her feet and led her to the door, unlocked it, and carried her up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson met us along the way and sighed.
"Why is it that every time one of you comes into this house, there is some type of injury?" she asked exasperatedly. But she smiled slightly and ran to get my medical bag.
I set the woman down in the study where everyone was sitting. Victoria looked up from her book and her eyes went wide.
"What happened Doctor?" she asked, her voice full of compassion.
"Some men were attacking her and trying to rob her," I explained, "Am I right madam?" The woman nodded, probably too shocked by her experience to speak.
"We will leave you then," said Phillips and he led Victoria and her uncle out of the room. Irene went to leave as well but stopped and laid a thin hand on my shoulder. Like Victoria, she had lost too much weight since that fateful night.
"God bless you Doctor," she said, "You did a brave thing tonight."
She left without another word and left the door open as Mrs. Hudson entered with my medical bag, a rag, and a china bowl full of warm water. I began to clean the cuts and realized I was out of the healing ointments I needed. I remembered Holmes had a jar by his chemicals and I reached over to grab the jar sitting on the desk. As my eyes fell on the glasses and powders, I sighed forlornly.
"Is something wrong sir?" the woman asked in a thin, frail voice. This was the first time I had heard her speak.
"No madam, I was just grabbing more ointment," I said heavily.
"Young man, I have lived a long time and I know when I am being lied to," she said, sitting up a little.
"Young indeed," I said bitterly, looking away, "Too young to deal with this much pain, yet here I am. This is the second time I have mourned for the loss of my dearest friend, my brother that does not share my blood. I look around me and see everything falling apart. Victoria and her uncle seem lost in the coldness of the world, Detective Phillips is losing hope of ever winning Victoria's heart, Irene is going to South America, and Mrs. Hudson will have to rent this place out to another tenant. Sure, Mary and I have worked out our disagreement but how long will that last?" I sighed and turned back to the woman while saying, "I'm terribly sorry madam, it has been the longest week of my…"
My words died out. No, it was impossible. It could not be true! My mind was playing tricks on me. It was a side-effect of all the stress I was under, that's what it was. I sighed with relief, shook my head, and fainted.
Author's Note: I know this chapter was kind of depressing but perhaps there is a silver lining. Can you guess what I'm talking about or do you think this is just the rambling of a crazy writer who definitely hasn't gotten enough sleep? Anyway, I did the double update tonight and will hopefully be able to do the same tomorrow. I really want this story finished before I leave. Don't forget to review and make my day! :)
