Hi guys so sorry for the delay… I was listening to the soundtrack by the amazing Hans Zimmer and I instantly got inspiration. How was everyone's Christmas? What did y'all get? Any questions for me? Just leave it in a review and I'll be sure to answer them on the next chappie or through a PM. But back to the story… So when we left off, we found out that Irene's alive :3 and Sherly's still dead… Boo. Wouldn't it be horrible if he never came back? That would suck. Luckily, I'm not that type of person… Or am I mwahahaha? We'll see. But for now, keep on reading for more adventures of Watson and Simza! :D

Oh and I don't own Sherlock Holmes :( poop nuggets… ENJOY.

Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn

A Confirmation Found

There are times in life where you feel like everything is going downhill with absolutely nothing to look forward to whatsoever. There are moments when you are sunk so badly that you can't think, breathe or even contemplate what will happen next. There are those periods where nothing can make you happy, no matter what anyone says or does. There are occasions when you even feel like doing something drastic because you honestly feel that there is nothing left to live for.

There are those stretches where you cannot stand to be around a person one second longer because they annoy you to no end. There are intervals in time when you wish that you were a completely different person. There are those stages where you simply cannot forgive yourself for something that was not your fault in the past, even though you are convinced it was. There are even phases when you have people comforting you but you feel like nothing helps at all.

There are those instances where you feel like doing something to assist someone in need but there is nothing left. There are moments in the past when you wish you could reverse time and take back something that occurred, perhaps even stop something from happening yourself. There are points of your existence where you wish you were not living, believing to your fullest extent that you would be better off not around. There are even those minutes that tick by so slowly that you want time to either stop completely or speed up to the quickness that your brain is processing at.

But despite it all, there is always something.

Perhaps you just weren't looking hard enough…

"There is no way that-" a soft voice protested from the darkness, getting cut off, stopping the thought processes.

A sturdier response came, approaching the soft lights lit upon the cobblestoned streets, casting shadows across the pathways. "Something is bound to occur sooner or later, Sim," the man said in hushed tones. "And we're going to figure it out."

The first voice, the woman, stood under the streetlamp which was illuminating the glow of her always frizzed hair and wild looking eyes. She wrapped her scarf around her neck tighter, hoping to keep warm this late at night. The day had passed by rather quickly, and nightfall had arrived sooner than either person would have assumed. Madame Simza shook her head rather violently as if she was forgetting something herself.

"I just do not understand what the problem is," she finally said, cocking her head to one side.

Doctor John Watson sighed, running a hand over his head. He wasn't frustrated with her, to say the least, just merely confused. He didn't have all of the facts either, which bothered him like crazy, but he knew some things that he wasn't about to let on. Some things were meant to stay a secret, at least for now.

"Something is indeed missing," Watson replied. "We haven't gotten all of the pieces yet. There is something that we haven't got our hands on. I can't quite put my finger on it." He paused and then added half-heartedly, "Physically and metaphorically."

Simza cracked a smile at his unusual joke before growing back to her normal serious tone. This was not a laughing matter. "We'll figure it out," assured Simza. "I have faith in you."

"That makes one of us."

Simza rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Doctor Watson, I knew you before Mister Holmes. I think you brighter and more intelligent. Honestly, I put my trust in you for good reason."

Watson sighed, continuing the short walk back to his own residence. He rubbed his temples, moving his hand from his head, and put in, "But you don't understand." Simza opened her mouth to interject with another response of "lies", but he didn't let her.

"This is a matter of life or death now," he said. "We can't not have all of the facts. We won't be able to succeed without them. We cannot afford mistakes now."

"You will," Simza whispered, stopping her own pace in front of the doctor's house. "I promise."

Watson stopped in his tracks as well, glancing upwards at the still lit lamp coming from the second floor of his home. He must have forgotten to shut that off. He sighed, frowning, and turned his focus back to the gypsy and the matter at hand. He had a plan, they had a plan, and he was sticking to it no matter what his gut feeling said. That didn't matter anymore; he didn't have Holmes telling him otherwise, and he planned to keep it that way. He was more of a book guy anyway…

Simza smiled, repeating her words for what seemed like the tenth time today.

"I have faith in you."

Watson smirked, "That's great because I certainly don't. That's for sure."

A silence passed between the two friends; they didn't let the snow or any passing people on the streets stop them from allowing the quiet rest between them. It wasn't awkward or unwelcomed, it was needed. It was a necessity to the conversation.

"Talk to him," Simza said at last. "He'll understand, he'll help you to understand."

Watson shook his head, "I'm not even sure that I want to understand." He mumbled that part under his breath, adding a bit louder, "These are dangerous zones we are about to embark upon. We must tread carefully."

Unfortunately for the doctor, Simza hadn't heard a word of what he had just said. She raised an eyebrow in his direction, and he merely just shook his head. "But what if he doesn't?" he rephrased a tad bit louder, raising his voice over the gusting wind.

"He will."

Perhaps they would have had better luck in the future if Watson had only stepped inside to realize that he had forgotten all about the capitalized anonymous letter. They probably would have saved a lot of time and grief… Oh well.

Watson paused in front of the upscale mansion in the middle of the countryside, right outside the city of London. He had only been here a few times before and yet each time, he felt the same emotion. It was a sense of panic and a feeling of being overwhelmed by too much too fast. It was complicated but it wasn't hard to understand. He never had this experience before, not with this added urgency, not like this. He sighed, rubbing his temples and hesitating one last time, before he lifted his hand and rapped on the wooden front door to Mycroft Holmes's house.

There was a pause in which relief washed over the doctor. No one was home…. He wouldn't have to face the man that reminded him so much of his brother. But an added determination swept upon Watson, and he struck the door with his knuckles once more.

"No one's home!" came a shout from inside.

Watson rolled his eyes, smirking at the cluelessness of the elder Holmes. "I would greatly appreciate you letting me in," he commented, almost yelling through the wood.

The door swung open as Mycroft realized the identity of the man standing on his front doorstep. He wore a huge plastered grin on his face like he had been expecting the doctor for quite some time now, and he gave a curt nod when he met eyes with Watson. Watson gave a small smile back at the elder in return.

"Well why didn't you say it was you?" boomed Mycroft. "Please come in Doctor Watson."

Watson nodded once more, stepping foot into the Holmes mansion. He looked around the grand foyer, tapping the marble tiled floor with his cane in approval. There had only been one other time that the doctor had been here and it seemed like such a long time ago. Right after Holmes was killed, he had visited Mycroft to double check that Sherlock hadn't visited here. He had not. Watson sighed, pushing the memories aside for the moment. He couldn't dwell on the past now, he had other issues that he concerned himself with. This case, for one.

"I need to discuss something with you," Watson jumped right at the chance, following Mycroft into the main sitting area adjacent to the foyer. "But I'm afraid I can't stay long."

Mycroft raised a curious eyebrow, "Yes?"

"There's something I'm missing," began the doctor, pursing his lips. He wasn't exactly sure where to begin or how much Mycroft knew. But he planned to discover it all in the time that he was spending here, there was simply no time to waste.

Mycroft held up a pocket watch, engraved with the initials JW and dressed in solid silver. "Your old watch perhaps?" he questioned.

Watson snatched the watch from the larger hands, shaking his head in disapproval. How the hell - He didn't even want to know. "I've been looking for that!"

There was a pause in which Watson continued to wobble his head back and forth, pondering how Mycroft managed to get his hands on the watch. He couldn't remember the last time he had it? At work perhaps? But then how would the elder Holmes get it there? It didn't matter anyhow.

"It's about Irene."

Mycroft nodded slowly, accepting the change of subject. He seemed to know exactly why Watson was here anyhow. "Ah, so you've heard," he said in slight response.

"I might have," came Watson's noncommittal answer.

"And what do you think I have the power to do?"

Watson answered rather quickly, "Assist me in finding her."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, not sure where the doctor was going with this. He frowned, his forehead crinkling in a mixture of confusion and exhaustion. This was not where he wanted the conversation to veer, was it? "Doctor, I am appalled," he stated at last. "I thought you were not getting involved like this anymore."

Watson gave an involuntary flinch at just the thought of discussing Sherlock in this very house. Too many memories indeed… "Well," he managed to spit out. "I am afraid you are mistaken."

"Nevertheless," Mycroft put in. "You have no proof that she's alive." Watson opened his mouth to say something in apparent response, trying to clue him in on the clues that led him here, but Mycroft interrupted before the doctor could put a word in. "I know the clues, but that does not mean solid proof."

Watson shook his head, "Mycroft, look me in the eyes and tell me that she's dead."

Another bout of silence passed between the pair in which neither of them said a word. Mycroft didn't break eye contact with the disturbed doctor, but he didn't utter a word either. It was a predicament indeed. Watson settled back in his armchair after a minute or so of simply staring.

"I thought so."

Mycroft admitted defeat, although he still wasn't sure where the conversation was headed after this. He frowned, his head already throbbing from today's results and conversations. "Not many people in this town stay dead for long Doctor Watson," was his only statement on the matter.

Watson looked up from the ground, still wearing the frown on his face.

"And the ones that stay alive need to watch their backs," he added after a moment's thought.

"What are you saying?" questioned Watson, obviously confused by where the elder Holmes was trying to lead him in this conversation. Why couldn't anyone just come out and tell him where Irene was located? He didn't want to be trapped in yet another game. He resisted a sigh, already knowing the answer. Too dangerous, not enough fun; this is what they lived for.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, "I'm saying that you need to find her before someone else does."

This time, it was Watson's turn to be surprised. His eyebrows skyrocketed to the top of his forehead in apparent shock. He wasn't aware - but of course…. Victoria. Wasn't she behind everything nowadays? Just like her father… So typical.

And yet, Watson didn't reveal what he knew about Victoria. He wasn't sure how much Mycroft knew about her, and he didn't want to add more to the elder's plate. It was already getting too complicated involving him like this. His only hope was that the elder Holmes would live to see another day.

"You think someone is trying to kill her?" Watson asked, his frown growing deeper by the minute. "She doesn't know anything."

"And she never will if you don't find her."

Watson took the hint; he knew the meaning for sure, and he was fully planning to take full advantage of it. He drew in a deep breath, getting to his feet faster than the speed of light, and ran out the door of the mansion without another word. There was no goodbye, no thank you, but Watson had gotten what he needed. He had gotten a confirmation.