Dear God, He's Gone and Done It: Chapter 2
Four months earlier….
Mary was dressed in Tudor style garb enacting a scene from a play that she and her theater troupe had been working on; opening night was only two more days away. They were putting on a version of 'Much Ado About Nothing'. Mary's dress was a lovely shade of dark green velvet with gold filigree work embroidered into the entire length. She happened to glance around when one of the doors at the top of the isle opened and she saw her husband, John, and his friend come in. She gave John a brief, almost shy, smile as he took a seat near the middle of theater; far enough away not to disturb the actors and the director as they worked. Sherlock sat down beside him, too wrapped up in whatever text war he was in with Lestrade to notice anything much about the goings on in front of him. John looked to his left, seeing Sherlock engrossed with his current tirade and just shook his head as he turned his attention back to admiring his wife; soon he found the rapid-fire texting from Sherlock to be wholly distracting…that damned little light kept popping on the phone's screen.
Nudging his friend, 'Seriously. Do you mind?"
"It's Shakespeare, we know how it ends."
"Yes. But, this is Mary. And I am trying to be a supportive husband, but I find myself being distracted as of late. Could you please…"
Sherlock received yet another text from Lestrade; John had enough. He grabbed Sherlock's phone and smashed it on the ground to keep it from lighting up again.
"There. Now you don't have to worry about what he has to say." John gave Sherlock a smile that dared him to argue. Sherlock merely bit his lips together and stared straight ahead to the stage.
His gaze became fixed on one of the other actresses that was a part of Mary's group.
She was slightly shorter than Mary, maybe by 2 inches, she was perhaps 120 lbs, she had a figure that was made all the more exaggerated by the Tudor style dress that she had on. Her hair was long, it fell in large soft curls around her shoulders and down to her hips; the top and sides had been pulled back with an intricate braid. Her dress was a shade of vermillion that set the colors of her skin and hair off rather well. Her skin once he got on the subject was of a pale cast. Sherlock didn't do 'cheesy', but even he would have to insist that she looked like a life sized porcelain doll; against her pale skin, what he could see of them, her lips were very nearly a perfect Cupid's Bow and of a lovely dark rosy pink color. Her cheeks looked slightly flushed from all the activity on the stage. He watched as one of her male co-stars wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, sweeping her off of her feet momentarily, spinning around in a circle with her…he watched her laugh out loud as he came to a stop, placing her back on her feet.
Sherlock was puzzled as to why he would have the sudden urge to amputate the poor man's hands and arms; he shrugged it off. Sherlock Holmes didn't catch feelings like that, he was a cerebral sort of man, feelings were for ordinary people…people like John and Mary, although over time Mary had proved to be anything but ordinary.
Soon it seemed as though the director was ending this particular rehearsal and the actors began dispersing to go their separate ways. That same man from before leaned over and quietly whispered something to the young woman into her ear at which she blushed an even deeper shade than before; but whatever she thought, it didn't stop her from shooting that man a saucy, even devilish grin in response.
Yet again, Sherlock had the urge to maim the man…perhaps cut out his tongue…or gouging out the eyes. Sherlock shook his head to dispel whatever the hell that was. He watched the woman walk over to the director; she was telling him something about the costume she was wearing. Judging by her hand gestures, she was letting him know that the dress was a bit too long..still…and that it needed to be adjusted before opening night to avoid any unnecessary accidents. The director smiled and nodded his head, apparently promising to have it taken care of quickly. With that assurance, the woman seemed happy, so she made her way off stage, likely to change into her real clothes, much to the dismay of one Sherlock Holmes.
John had in the meantime had stood up and wanted to leave the row of seats and make his way closer to the stage so he could collect his wife when she made her way out of the dressing rooms; he had tried numerous times to get Sherlock's attention, failing miserably. Finally, he nudged him stoutly to rouse him from whatever his thoughts were. Sherlock merely looked up at John like he was the one with issues.
"I'd like to go collect Mary if you don't mind. What's your problem anyway? When we first came in you could care less about the play."
"Oh you know. I have a great appreciation for Shakespeare."
"Yeah. It wouldn't have anything to do with that little brunette would it?"
"Shut up and go get that wife of yours." Sherlock barely cut his eyes over to his one friend.
John had to do his best to stifle the laughter that bubbled within; his eyes danced in merriment.
John and Sherlock had managed to make their way to the front row about the time that Mary was coming back from the dressing room, her bag slung over her shoulder; she was talking with her friend, the one that had caught Sherlock's attention so tightly. The other young woman had changed from her dramatic red gown and was now in a pair of jeans that she probably had to be poured into and a t-shirt with cap sleeves that fit her like a glove; the shirt was a shade of purple that Sherlock was sure he would never forget. The neckline had one of those v-necks that almost look like it had been cut in with a razor blade…..but not by the wearer; it looked to be the sort of thing she would have bought that way. The front of the t-shirt said something trite about 'Does Not Play Well With Others'. Her jeans were long enough they engulfed the boots that were on her feet; she was nearly walking the hem off of the legs. She must have had whatever gear she brought with her in the messenger bag that was carelessly resting on one hip.
Suddenly, Sherlock couldn't help but be jealous of that damned bag. Again, three times now, he had to shake the thought out of his head quickly.
She had some ear phones resting around her neck; not the little insipid ear buds that everyone else sported these days, but the sort of ear phones that covered the whole ear and blocked out any other sound from entering or escaping. She was listening to some rap song actually; it sounded as though it was a Jay-Z song…but Sherlock couldn't be sure exactly, he wasn't up on much pop culture, but he would have to take John's word for it. But she did seem to be doing some version of a dance move inspired by the beat while laughing at something that Mary was saying. It seemed as though the reason this woman hadn't put her headphones on completely was because she had been busy taking the braid out and shaking the rest of her hair lose.
Sherlock was trying to figure out where his voice was at; he wanted to tell her how good she had looked with her hair pulled back in the braid. But he couldn't; she was even better without the braid, he couldn't come up with the words to say.
Finally, Mary was close enough to John and Sherlock that the men could catch the tail end of the conversation between the two women.
"Barbary, I want you to meet my husband, John."
The young woman turned her music off and took the headphones off completely stowing them quickly in her bag to give her new acquaintance some respect.
"Oh, so you're John. Mary talks about you all the time."
"Really? She does?"
"All of it is good, so I'd like to believe it's true. And might I say that she left out the part about you being completely adorable." At this John began to redden in the cheeks a bit; now it was Sherlock's turn to try to hold back his own laughter. John ribbed him good with his elbow.
"And this is his…friend…They work together. Sherlock Holmes."
"Mary's told me a bit about you as well."
"Oh dear…"
"It's not as bad as that is it? Here, read this to me and we'll call it even." The woman had reached into her bag and brought out a copy of War and Peace, handing him the book. He took the book, looking at it strangely, perplexed.
"Barbary, you're awful actually. Boys, this is my friend Barbary." Mary finally made the final introductions, shaking her head at how quickly the smaller woman had been able to leave the great Sherlock Holmes speechless. Mary had only rarely seen this happen and not so rapidly.
"So Barbary, would you care to join us for a bite of dinner? We're going to the place just up the street."
"I don't know…I should probably…" For a second she looked like she was going to decline, suddenly feeling out of place among the three friends.
"Yes! I mean you should come. With us…you should come with us." Sherlock almost never stuttered or tripped over his words. Mary and John shared a conspiratorial smile. This was too good to let it go.
Before she could give a definitive answer that man from earlier that was quickly becoming Sherlock's nemesis (unbeknownst to the poor man) had come from the changing rooms and wrapped an arm around the woman's neck.
"So doll, you wanna come out with me tonight?"
"Thank you. But…no. Mary has already invited me to dinner with her and her husband John, and their friend. Maybe another night." She was nodding as she finished her sentence as if to signal to the man that she was done discussing it at which time the man simply shrugged and walked away.
"Does he not take hints?" Barbary mumbled to Mary as the man made his way to the exit. "So, Mr. Holmes, shall we go then?" She turned to him, arching a brow as she waited for his response.
Sherlock merely held out an arm for her to take and he began walking behind Mary and John as this woman…this Barbary…fell into step beside him. Sherlock couldn't help but notice that the top of Barbary's head barely made it to his shoulder if it even made it at all.
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Even though the night held a slight chill in the air, it had been a great night for a walk to the little café where the foursome had decided to grab their meal. Not even five minutes into the walk, the group stopped long enough to allow Barbary to pull her jacket from her bag; she had been having such a good time making Sherlock squirm that she forgot all about it before. Sherlock held her bag for her while she pulled the coat on and buckled it in place, watching her….every move she made.
The longer they walked, Sherlock noticed that her hands still seemed to be cold and that she was still shaking a bit from the weather. He offered her his coat; at first she declined, but he insisted, eventually winning the argument. It couldn't possibly be the penetrating blue eyes and that deep voice with the lovely English accent….Nah! Probably not.
Mary and John couldn't help but giggle among themselves when they saw this; Sherlock was every bit of 6'1. Barbary was only about 5'3, maybe 5'4 if you squint your eyes just right. Once she had Sherlock's coat wrapped warmly around her, she had to almost hold it up at the pockets to keep from tripping over the tail of it. Luckily, Sherlock tended to dress in layers most of the time during the fall and winter, so he wasn't too bad off without his trusty trench coat.
Altogether the walk hadn't taken longer than maybe fifteen minutes; when the group walked into the small café, the operator looked up from what she was doing and smiled, seeing her friend Mary coming through the door.
"I see you've brought John,' the woman nodded to the shorter, blonde man. "Sherlock."
"Paige." Sherlock's greeting was full of an equal amount of what seemed to be disdain.
At the sight of Sherlock, the woman merely rolled her eyes. And then she saw Mary's other friend, "Barbary, so good to see you again. Will you be 'aving the usual?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. That's why I love you best of all."
The others placed their orders before taking their seats. When Paige saw that Barbary was wearing Sherlock's coat.
'But why? It's not like Sherlock is chivalrous….he's barely even nice to anyone.' Paige thought to herself as she got the orders ready for their table. She decided she would have to keep an eye on things, and maybe even threaten Sherlock's life if he stepped out of bounds this time. Barbary was a good woman. Sure, she was tough. She could kill a man in a matter of seconds if the situation was right. But Barbary was also one of the most kind-hearted people Paige knew. She loved to joke around and have a good time. Most people would never know how deeply Barbary was scarred; she would never tell them. Of course, Sherlock is just the sort of man that would figure almost everything out with just one or two glances and Barbary would have to say barely a word. But then again, that fact might actually get on Barbary's nerves. Sherlock was smart, insanely intelligent in his way. But he was nearly inept with his interactions with others, save for Mary and John…God knows they'd tried over the years to turn him into something more human. Paige didn't mind if Sherlock was able to read Barbary like a book; somebody had to be able to do it if they were ever to figure out who she really was beyond the façade that she let everyone see. Paige's only wish was that, while he was learning all about this girl, Sherlock practiced a little tact and self-restraint. As she thought, Paige turned her attention to making sure she had Barbary's fish and chips coming out just right. That girl loved her fish and chips…sometimes Paige wondered if she ever ate anything else. She smiled as she heard Barbary laughing wholeheartedly at something that John had said; it was some story about a case that Sherlock had worked on and John's retelling of it and the animation on his face must have been top shelf. Paige hadn't heard Barbary laugh that way in a long time. It was nice.
"I still don't understand why you gave me 'War and Peace'"
"Well…sometime I will have to come over to your place, or you can come over to mine, and you will read it to me. I'll help you figure out the rest."
Paige could hear Sherlock trying to formulate a sentence, but he was failing so epically. And when she turned and saw the look on his face….Priceless. She knew, when she first met Barbary, she would like this girl. And, she was right. She watched as Sherlock was practically spellbound watching Barbary pull her hair back into a sloppy bun to keep the long locks out of her way as she ate. She shook her head quietly…I don't know who I feel sorrier for.
Sherlock was just sitting there staring at Barbary like she was one of the great mysteries of the universe. He wasn't far off course; she was damned difficult to figure out sometimes.
Paige got the orders together for their table and walked over to distribute them, making sure that she left the vinegar with Barbary just in case she didn't drown the food with enough of it to begin with. As she stepped away to go back to her counter, Paige noticed the exact moment when it finally clicked in Sherlock's brain just exactly what Barbary was on about with this whole 'reading' thing. And Paige had never seen that man turn so red. Barbary merely smiled at him and winked before taking a bite out of her fish.
"Oh my God, Paige….this is freaking amazing. I love you!" Paige smiled. She knew that if it was really good Barbary would start swaying from side to side in her chair as she ate. It was an unconscious thing that she did all the time when she ate something that was particularly good….it was funny to watch.
Seeing the red shade still present in Sherlock's normally pale complexion, 'Barbary, Mary is right. You really are awful."
Barbary grumbled and wrinkled her brow at her, 'You don't have to tell everybody."
Paige left the food on the table and allowed the four of them to enjoy their time together; she hoped she'd get to see more of Sherlock being put in his place, especially from the firecracker that was Barbary. But, at the same time, she was sort of glad that it seemed that Barbary had met someone who could stand up to her if needs be. That girl could run right over you given the chance.
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Outside of the little café it had started to rain; since it was chilly outside, the rain coupled with the warmth inside the café caused the windows to fog slightly around the edges. The foursome had picked a table close to one of the large windows….apparently Barbary loved the London weather, rain or shine. She was an odd bird.
As the four of them sat and laughed at the conversation (mainly consisting of Mary and John finding it splendid that Sherlock and Barbary seemed so evenly matched) none of them happened to notice the man standing across the street in the black leather jacket. He had no umbrella, no hat…he was only wearing that leather biker's jacket and black jeans with combat boots on his feet. Anyone who walked near enough to him to ask him if he was alright or needed help soon learned to back away. He was seething with anger and perhaps even pure hatred. His focus was solely on the small figure sitting closest to the window in the flame red cargo jacket with the animated face.
It had taken him years to find her. She had put him through more than one level of hell trying to locate her. The agency wanted her dealt with. They had wanted her neutralized years ago, but she disappeared into the throngs of Istanbul. And just when he got close enough to almost smell her perfume on the wind, she relocated to Marrakesh. Bouncing around those two cities, she was damned invisible, even to someone as well trained as he was. She favored the native inhabitants so closely in many cases; and as pale skinned as she was, when she did get some sun, her skin had a tendency to take on an olive pallor.
Not only that, but, she spoke several languages fluently; not only English, but Arabic, French, Greek…she had a working knowledge of the Turkish language. And what she didn't know for sure she could make it up. She could go anywhere and disappear. He was surprised he didn't have to track her over half of continental Europe to finally get to her. Something must require her to come out of hiding. He would take his time to find out what that something might be; after all, it could be beneficial to his own work.
All this stranger knew was that, this time, failure was not an option.
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Post AN: Ok. So finally! A chapter 2. I have accomplished something at long last. It has been so long since I have posted an update to any of my stories….I feel sorta bad about that. I know that a couple of you might have thought Chpt 1 was a little dark and depressing. So I tried to lighten this one up at least a little bit. But, I think, I've just been in one of those 'dark/depressing' sort of moods lately…guess I have a lot of things swirling around in my head at once….I will warn everybody, just in case you're not familiar with my other stories….my stories usually have a body count. None of the OC's get hurt (not really badly, they usually recover)….unless I hate that character. Anyway, I hope that somebody out there likes this one. I do have an 'alternate' chapter 2 that I had started working on weeks ago and totally forgot about (hahaha, now you know what you're dealing with suckers…joking). I may still find a way to use the work in a later chapter at some point, not deleting it until I'm sure. And I will remind everybody, I am American, so some of my references and things like that might be off, but bear with me, I'm trying. Thanks for reading so far.