Chapter 15; Beautiful
Sherlock woke to find himself sitting in a chair at a table. It took him a few, disoriented seconds to realise where he was. The orphanage. So they had been hoping that Holmes would have come and Maria had been the unexpected factor, now it made sense. He groaned softly and realised he wasn't bound or anything; he had just been placed in the chair.
"Ah, the princess has awoken," A voice said and Sherlock looked around. A man was walking towards him. He wasn't someone that Sherlock recognised, just like the men who had grabbed him less than 20 minutes beforehand. He was tall and quite handsome, at least he would be by some women's standards, and was wearing a neat suit and tie to top it off. Sherlock read everything he could before turning away, bored.
"You wanted me all along." Sherlock stated, sounding bored.
"Of course," The man said, walking over casually to sit down across from him. "Sending that woman was just a delay you know."
"She insisted," Sherlock said bluntly watching the man carefully. "Who are you?"
"I work for someone important, who seems to think you are nosing around in his business." The man replied coolly, watching Holmes. "Can I ask you something, Mr Holmes?"
"Depends what it is?" Sherlock said, leaning back in his seat
"What do you think beauty is Mr Holmes?"
"I don't think anything…" Sherlock drifted off as a lock of red hair was produced and flaunted in front of his face. Maria's hair.
"So you don't think this is beautiful?" He asked, curling it around his finger.
"How did you get that?" Sherlock asked, hiding his curiosity. It was hard to get the drop on Maria when she was in work mode. Did that mean they had broken into Bakers Street?
"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," He offered. Sherlock sighed.
"Dull." He murmured before answering properly. "I think it's beautiful."
"A friend got it for me. Says you've got an attachment to the woman it's from. I'm curious to know Mr Holmes, what is it you see in her?"
Sherlock blinked slowly at the question.
"For a start, she's not beautiful," He began slowly.
At the same time Maria was running down a side alley, her red hair spewing out behind her as her eyes danced around, trying to spot the car which had taken Holmes from Baker Street. She knew it couldn't be far, she hadn't taken that long to figure out the path it could've taken around the confined streets of London.
"She's radiant, like the sun, her hair is the rays that blind anyone who looks for too long…" Sherlock continued, staring off into space.
There! She'd spotted it behind an eight foot fence. They must have come from the other side. She hit the fence and found it didn't seem to want to give even though it looked about ready to fall. With a growl she took a few steps back before running forwards and jumping at the fence. She grabbed hold of it and began to scale it.
"She's a bit like a burning fire, consuming everything in her path, only everything she touches she makes so much more wonderful…"
Maria reached the top, flipped over it and landed gracefully on the other side. She ducked down and scampered over to the car and glanced inside. No sign of either of them. She cussed under her breath before darting off into the building through a side door.
"She's a fighter, though she won't come to me with her fears and doubts, only when the emotions become too much for her to handle herself."
Maria finally reached a door that she collided with solidly, sending her sprawling to the ground. She got up and realised the door was locked. She inspected the lock and decided it wasn't worth her time picking it. She took a few steps back, took a deep breath then charged at the door. It was clear it wasn't made for an army woman to come barging through it like that as the hinges broke and the door fell with a thud.
"Whoops…" Maria muttered before she rushed through.
"She's strong; she's carried many men off the battlefield in her time. She fights for what she believes in, her family, queen and country…love…"
Maria was on a roll, bolting up a flight of stairs to the next floor. That was when she chanced a look out the window to see the light on in the window a floor up and across from her in the building next to the one she was in. Eyes widening she charged for up the next flight of stairs.
"And the most beautiful thing is her heart. Unbroken, untamed. She is a free, wild spirit that I dare not tie down. She took a torn and broken soul like mine and made me whole again…just by saying my name. Sherlock finished, looking at the man across from him. "That is what I see in her."
"Do you love her Mr Holmes?"
"Love? I've been informed I don't have a heart by some, but I do and when I look at it, she's already carved her name all over it, claiming it as her own. If that's what you call love, then yes, I love her very much."
The man sitting opposite Holmes grinned slightly.
"Right then," He said before pulling out a slip of paper from within his jacket and sliding it across the table to Holmes. He stood up. "I guess we're done here," He said producing a gun and pointing it at Sherlock's head. "Thanks for the talk, it's been gre-" He was cut off by a bullet digging itself into his chest. He looked surprised as he fell and hit the ground. In an instant Sherlock was up out of his chair and darting over to the window to look through the bullet hole in the window. The shoot appeared to have vanished already. Hearing the cries of the dying man, Sherlock moved back over to him swiftly.
"Tell me the name of your employer…Tell me!" Sherlock cried, standing over the dying man, who simply coughed slightly. Sherlock sighed and grabbed his arm and twisted sharply. "Tell me!"
"Moriarty!" The man shouted with his last breath before he fell still. Sherlock sighed softly.
Sherlock soon found himself sitting on the back of a paramedic's truck.
"Why do they keep putting this blanket on me?" Sherlock asked when Lestrade had finally walked over to him.
"It's for shock."
"I'm not in shock." He said sourly before standing up. "Any sign of the shooter?"
"They must have cleared off before we arrived," Lestrade said before looking at him expectantly. "Know anything?"
"The shooter had a clean line of sight but didn't fire until I was in immediate danger which suggests strong moral grounds. Bullet was from a handgun, correct? The shooter would have to have had steady nerves, perhaps a military background…." Sherlock faded off seeing Maria running towards him.
"Sherlock, good lord!" She cried, stopping beside him and grabbing his arm tightly, almost too tightly. "Poor dear you must be in shock," She gushed pulling the blanket tighter around him. "I'm taking you home right now, doctors orders." She said before throwing and arm around his waist, intending to drag him off.
"But I still have questions…" Lestrade said, but it didn't stop Maria.
"Tomorrow Lestrade!" Maria called back as a promise before dragging Sherlock off scene.
"Good shot," Sherlock whispered to her once they were far enough away. Maria smirked slightly.
"It's nice to know my aim hasn't faltered." She said looking up at him as he swung an arm around her shoulders. Once they reached the main road, Maria flagged down a cab before pulling Sherlock in after her. Much to her surprise, as soon as the door shut behind him, he let his head fall straight into her lap/
"Sherlock?" Maria asked sounding confused.
"Something's wrong…" He mumbled into her leg. With a sigh she placed a hand on his forehead.
"You're burning up," She said.
"That'll do it," He said turning his head to look up at her. She sighed again.
"You really are going to be confined to Bakers street if you carry on like this. You barely eat, you barely sleep, no wonder you're starting to get sick…" She said absently running her fingers through his hair. Sherlock let out a small noise that Maria took as a cross between a sigh and a groan. She continued gently petting his head, letting a small giggle come forth.
"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked, glancing at her.
"You." She answered simply.
