Gratzie, Gratzie, Gratzie! All of your reviews were so wonderful! Oh, they just made my heart flutter right out of my chest. Let's keep the reviews up, shall we? :D I love hearing what you have to say!

On that note, a couple of you asked about RenaxSherlock moments, and I promise you, there will be many startling and grand ones in this story. So, keep reading if you want to find out what I mean! (:

Love all of the favorite characters and quotes. Time for another author's challenge! Question of the chapter: If you and Sherlock Holmes could go on a date to one place, where would it be?

Don't forget to review the chapter when you post. (:

MUCH LOVE xx,

Mistro

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I have nothing to wear.

This was not an issue that normally troubled me. However, as I prepared myself to go to the auction, I realized that there was no possible way of getting inside. At least, not with my wardrobe. There was no way that I could pass as wealthy and that set me up for automatic failure.

"Mother?" I called as I rushed down the stairs. My bare feet creaked against the rough wooden stairs, half eaten by termites. "This is a strange request, but do we have any extra money lying around?" My mother's eyes lifted up from the Daily Telegraph as she sipped her tea. A small smile slid across her face before she went back to reading the paper. That was all the answer I needed. "There's no way I'm going to be let in…" I whispered my fears aloud.

"Allowed in where?" Her eyes still scanned the front page.

"This auction I have to go to," I mumbled. I wasn't sure why I was telling her about it in the first place. Maybe I just needed someone to vent to. "Sherlock needs me to go and find someone, but I don't have the proper clothes. He's going to be so disappointed if I can't get inside."

"Sneak in," she said calmly.

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she thumped the paper down. "Just pretend you work there! Someone will believe you eventually if you just wear a plain dress and say that you're a display girl." I was about to protest, but she firmly cut me off. "Renadale, I am no fool. I know very well that you have disguised yourself before on these little adventures. One more time surely can't hurt."

It was at this moment that I realized I truly strayed from the path of a 'normal' life. My own mother was pressuring me to be a crook; I knew I was on the verge of insanity.

Like a child, I stormed up to my room, unpleased with the advice I had been given. My body fell across my bed in a state of delirium. Why did I have to do this? Why couldn't John go? He had nothing to do for the wedding. Sherlock was planning his stag party (though I hadn't seen or heard anything about this for several weeks) and Mary and I did everything else.

Where was the doctor?

Grumpily, I hauled myself off of the bed to take a better look at the clock. I couldn't even read the exact time from frustration, though I knew I was late. If I wasn't at the auction soon, Sherlock was going to have a fit. Even though he would probably get the package himself from Irene, he would still have a fit.

"Mother," I shouted as I pettily made my way towards the front door. "I'm going out. I don't know when I'll be back."

"Bring back some bread for tonight's dinner."

"I just said I don't know when I'll be back."

Her curly head stuck out from around the corner. Her eyes were far from welcoming as she shot me a heated look. "Dinner. Tonight. Bring the bread."

There was no arguing with her. When she had made up her mind, she was adamant. "Yes, mother," I mumbled and headed my way towards Cromwell and Griff's without any determination in my steps at all.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Green. That was the first thing I noticed as I stood across the street from the Auctioneers. The massive awning was an olive green that resentfully mocked me. It was the color of money; something I clearly didn't possess. I wasn't going to put up a fight, but I was going to get inside or die trying.

My feet boldly took me up to the doorstep, but the second I arrived my heart changed its mind. I began to fall back into the river of people until a curious guard grabbed my attention. "Miss? Are you here for the auction? It's about to begin very soon." He was young and seemed friendly enough, but I struggled to find a proper answer.

"Yes?" I managed to squeak out. With a glowing smile, he politely held open the door for me.

That was it? Was it really that easy? I made my way inside, keeping my eyes on him the entire time. He continued to smile while I passed him underhanded glances. Apparently anyone could go to an auction as long as they promised to pay.

Now that I was inside, it was time to go to work. My eyes instantly scanned the room for Doctor Hoffmanstahl. There were many rich, old men lingering about the room, and planting my finger on just one wasn't very easy. The auction hadn't started yet and many people were making their way about the room to get a better look at the items.

Think, Renadale. You are an Adkins. You have a brain. What did he look like?

Sherlock's voice came fluttering back into my head from the day before.

"Look for a man in a deep blue top hat; it's all the rage in central Europe. His skin will be utterly pale, having just been in the coldest part of Germany. His hair will be properly groomed and he has a white mustache. A doctor of his expertise will not need a cane or even glasses."

The description and the man standing a measly two inches from me considerably matched up. I tried my best to keep an eye on him and he seemed to take very little notice of my pestering motives. I was nearly positive it was him and my thoughts were confirmed when a wrinkled woman came up to his side.

"Doctor Hoffmanstahl!" She said warmly. "It's so good to see you again! How was your recent trip to France?"

"Fine, thank you." He clearly wasn't a man of many words.

"How is Germany these days? Oh, Germany and France. Those two are going to kill each other before the year is out. Then again, perhaps we shouldn't be discussing that so openly." She let out a small giggle that matched her overly rouged cheeks.

"No." His sigh was followed by a hostile grimace. "Perhaps not." The Doctor didn't even say goodbye to the woman before he slinked off towards the back of the room. The auction was getting started and I needed to take my place.

I found a spot in the same row as him, but across the aisle. I would be able to watch him without it seeming suspicious. I didn't have a number, so I couldn't bit, but no one seemed to care. Perhaps they thought I was a wife of a bidder… or a mistress. My cheeks began to turn red just thinking about that.

"Good morning, ladies and gentleman!" A short man began to speak at the head of the room. His balding head seemed to shine under the room's emerald haze. Just like the outside, the place was covered in the greedy color. "We won't take long to get things started. We're here to bid and we request that you make a payment after your purchases. Thank you, and let us begin."

Whispers were dying down as the crowd settled into their seats. Spectators continued to swirl about the room; the whole place was itching with treasures and they audience's drooling mouths.

"The first lot…" The man spoke up. "These are royal cartouches from Ancient Egypt. They were found in the burial tomb of Yazid ibn 'Abdallah al-Hulwani, a ruler of Egypt for ten years. He was the first Turk to govern Egypt. We will be starting the bidding at twenty pounds."

A few hands immediately went up, and I felt my entire body shiver. Twenty pounds was enough to feed my mother and I for a year, maybe two. These people were spending it on jewelry that will be locked up in their cupboards. Those pieces should have been locked away in a museum; not sold to someone who doesn't need any more money.

I couldn't help but think back to Jacob Irons, who had a deep fascination with Egypt. His grey eyes were still etched into my memory as a reminder that not all kind faces are good ones.

The biddings continued on and on without even a peep of Irene. We were already on lot sixteen and I had slept through fourteen of them. Holmes and Adler had yet to present themselves, and as I waited my mind began to wander. Sick thoughts began trickling into my head as the twentieth item was displayed.

What if Irene already planted the bomb? What if they accidentally made it go off and they're both dead? What if Sherlock got it, but got captured? What if Irene was never in London at all and I'm stuck sitting here without a clue?

"Sold for two hundred pounds!" Everyone began to clap. I was brought back to reality at the sound of jealous hands. What on Earth would sell for two hundred pounds?

"Can you believe that?" The person next to me chuckled into my ear.

I resolutely shook my head. I couldn't believe anyone was buying anything. Doctor Hoffmanstahl, like me, had bought nothing. He was probably just waiting for his payment… his surprise package.

And what a surprise it would be.

"Lot number thirty-three…" The auctioneer said. I had apparently dozed off again, because I couldn't remember any of the objects. Now he was selling some sort of painting from a French Queen. If I didn't know any better, I would have though an artist from London's Bohemia painted it. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms firmly over my chest. Looking like a lady was no longer a concern of mine. I was certain that everyone around me knew I wasn't one of them at that point.

Painting sold. One hundred pounds. Ludicrous.

"We now come to lot thirty-four…" The man's voice was oozing and tempting, as if what he was going to offer was some sort of fairy-tale castle. "Egyptian sarcophagus of outstanding providence, retrieved from the Valley of the Kings. Who will bid one hundred pounds?"

I casually rolled my head over to the left to see if the Doctor's hand would finally rise.

Oh, but it wasn't going to rise any time soon. Not when his prize was sitting right beside him.

"Irene!" I whispered harshly beneath my breath. My blood was flowing like a madwoman's. My palms were suddenly wet as I struggled to breathe normally. She was whispering something in his ear. I had to get closer. I had to hear what they were saying!

That's when the disaster struck.

Where was Holmes? Why wasn't he with her? Why was she slipping him a neatly wrapped, brown package? I felt my hands grab the side of my face in horror. The man beside me looked frightened of me, but I didn't bother to explain myself. I had to stop her. I had to-

"Renadale?" Irene mouthed my name as our eyes uncomfortably met. Her mouth curled into a bright smile as she wagged her skinny finger towards me. She wanted me to come and talk to her. Like a puppy, I followed her command. My stomach felt like it was twisting inside of me. "Renadale Adkins," she cooed as I slid into the seat beside her. "My, my you are looking more lovelier than before!" Her compliments were not genuine, but she did seem pleased to see me. "You know, it's funny, but… I thought I would be seeing you in Chichester. After all, I did send Sherlock a letter telling him we would bump into each other. Unfortunately, that didn't happen."

Chichester? She was going to meet us in Chichester? The whole time Sherlock had thought that she was meeting was today… in London.

That meant that the bomb in Chichester wasn't supposed to have happened.

And if it wasn't supposed to have happened… then who was the target?

I couldn't seem to find the right words to respond. With the new information suddenly thrust upon me, and the bomb just carefully in my reach, my entire body felt numb. Where was the hero inside of me that I so often convinced myself I had? Irene didn't seem concerned with my answer. Her attention was instantly returned to her client. "I was assured full payment would be there," she said quietly.

"Yes, but assured by whom? Have you ever met him in person?" Irene didn't bother to grace that question with a response. The Doctor seemed not to care a wink for my presence. I was a measly friend of Miss Adler. I focused my attention on the item being sold, keeping the unwrapped bomb in the corner of my eye. "Or, like me, have you been-"

His fingers were sliding open the box. Bile felt like it was coming up my throat and I had to clasp my hands over my mouth to not scream. I didn't know what to do. Holmes would kill me if the bomb went off.

Or… I guess he wouldn't have to.

Clink.

A number thirty-three sign suddenly appeared on the bomb's handle, stopping the eruption. A yelp escape my lips while Irene only rolled her eyes. Sherlock Holmes had soiled her plans again. "Hold it, hold it…" Sherlock's voice displayed the frustration we all were feeling. "Please, don't move it." It was clear the Doctor had no idea what power he held in his hands. All I could think about was how grateful I was that Sherlock had showed up at the very last second. "Renadale!" His voice snapped me back to reality. "I'm very thrilled to see that you are here, doing one part of what I asked, but what happened to the second part?"

"I'm sorry!" I groaned. "Do you know how much pressure that put on me? I can't even run in a straight line without tripping!"

He flapped a hand at me, no longer interested. Saving the day was a forte of his and he could easily take care of things. "Judging by the size and weight, it's not the payment you expected," he explained to the Doctor. "I'd wager the contents are rather more… incendiary."

Irene's heavily powdered eyes flickered towards me with resilience written all over them. "How have you managed to put up with him for this long?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't sleep so I don't ever really think about things."

"Who are these people?" Doctor Hoffmansthal demanded, still not aware of the issue at hand.

"It's…" Irene tried very hard to explain, but it was clear that our appearance just wasn't worth being mentioned. I didn't blame her.

Sherlock, however, cracked a toothy smile. "Hello, darling," he said cheerily as he went to kiss Irene on the cheek. As he turned his head to her, I could see a big gash on the side of his face. I was more appalled by that than his long smooch to her cheek. No wonder he was late; he had to get himself into another mess.

Wait, is he trying to take the letter from her? I glanced down at a note clasped tightly in her hand. Was that what he wanted? Surely, he didn't just kiss her without a reason.

Or did he?

My head was pounding with everything going on. I shut my eyes for a moment to concentrate, when a sudden whirring sound flooded my ears. "Oh, dear," Sherlock sighed. "I told you not to move it. It seems a secondary charge has been activated." My eyes shot open to see the bomb ticking. That bile taste was suddenly back. "Renadale, go light my pipe and put it by the tapestry."

"What?"

"You heard me," He sang under his breath, tossing me his beloved pipe.

If anyone saw me, I was dead. Flustered, and feeling a bit belittled, I did as I was told and made my way to the back of the room. The pipe was already hot and all I needed to do was poke at it before it started smoking. Secretly, I set it next to an antique rug that was soon setting ablaze. "I'm so sorry," I whispered to the poor fabric. It didn't stand a chance.

"One million pounds!" Sherlock suddenly announced, catching everyone's attention. "Oh, and by the way… fire."

The crowd was out of that store in two seconds flat, leaving the four of us alone and unprotected. I watched the bomb click away and the fire continue to blaze up. My feet wanted to run with the rest of the group, but something held me back.

"Renadale!" Irene laughed, though her chuckles had fuming irritation behind them. "It's been so lovely seeing you. Perhaps we can get together tomorrow if I'm still in town."

"Alright…" I said shakily. "I'll-"

"I'll send for you," she snapped. "Oh, and don't be late for dinner!" She said as she whirled around to face Sherlock. The ruddiness in her face was even more so than normal. "I expect that my schedule will be quite tight because of the activities here."

Their faces were dangerously close as they exchanged the rest of their conversation. I felt like I was invading privacy as I watched them speak so intimately, but I couldn't seem to peel my eyes away. My fingers reached for the pipe to protect Sherlock's favorite accessory, but I was not properly thanked.

They were kissing each other.

I thought I might drop the pipe in surprise, but I quickly caught myself. It was soon clear that Irene was trying to get back the letter that Sherlock had taken. However, he hadn't taken it.

I had.

I felt the wrinkled fabric in the pocket of my coat, safe and sound. She had taken me for a fool. It was my form of revenge, as much as I liked her company. No one ever suspects the quiet, unreliable one. I couldn't help but offer up a small grin to myself. My mother would have been proud.

"Very witty!" I heard Holmes say as he pulled away from her. "So confident, even in retreat." He lifted his brows expectantly towards me, and I quickly tossed him the letter. He wagged it tauntingly in her face; it was clear she had no idea I had stolen it. "I'll hold onto that. We'll read it together over an aperitif. "

"Fine," she cooed. She might have lost round one, but there was always room for round two. "Dinner and a show. As for you, Renadale, I expect us to go shopping for a new hat as soon as we can." Without another word, she left. She had said and done all that she could. Now, she had to deal with her employer… whoever he may be.

I prayed he would have mercy on her soul. How much trouble would she be in, when all of the other bombings had gone so smoothly? I looked up to catch Holmes's eyes fixated on mine. They were trying to tell me something. Something I couldn't quite gather.

I'm sorry.

Tightness encircled my heart. I was reminded of their lip lock moments ago, even if it was just for professional purposes. But, I could sense the attraction when their faces were close. I could see distant memories in the color of their cheeks. They wanted one another… even if it was just a little bit.

Doctor Hoffmanstahl was momentarily forgotten. His thin body squirmed uncomfortably about as he watched the scene take place.

"Stay!" Sherlock said as he snatched the bomb from his fingers. "Trust me. This is what I do for a living."

I snickered. Could he call it living?

Sherlock rushed down the aisle towards the sarcophagus. I watched him with knitted brows, afraid of what he was going to do next. "Sherlock?" I called out as he tossed the bomb inside of the tomb. "Are you sure that's…"

"Herr Hoffmanstahl! You should count yourself lucky!" He grinned like a madman as he dropped the cover onto the stone casket. "This faceless man with whom you find yourself in business with is no ordinary criminal. He's the Napoleon of crime."

I felt my hands automatically make their way towards my hips. Did Sherlock know who the employer was? It wouldn't have surprised me that he had kept it a secret if he did. After all, I hadn't seen him in two days, and when I did we spoke very little. But why the sudden secrecy?

"Fortunately, you now have Miss Adkins and I as allies!" Sherlock gestured towards me. I wasn't smiling. I suddenly wasn't proud to be his partner.

Sherlock kept going on and on as he entered a closet. Hoffmanstahl was getting up to leave and I waved him on. All was well and good with the world, and there was nothing we could do anymore. He looked grateful for me letting him pass, but I honestly didn't have a care in the world.

It was perfect timing when the bomb went off inside. Holmes was silenced, and when he reappeared his face was covered in grey dust. I winced; he looked elderly. "Well, that was… not exactly according to plan." He coughed.

"I suppose you could say that." My feet carried me over towards him, where I gently dusted some dirt away from his face with my handkerchief. He didn't complain; he leaned into my touch and shut his eyes silently.

"Renadale…"

"It doesn't matter," I muttered. "You were only doing what you saw fit." His eyes cracked open. We looked at one another without a word; no apologies, no complaints. "Look what you're done to yourself," I whispered as I touched the cut on his cheek. He winced in pain as he gently took my hand.

"That's still tender."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered. "You knew who he was this whole time and you never bothered to tell me?"

"No," he instantly defended himself. "I did not know who he was until yesterday. I had many theories and assumptions, but I think I have found who it is. I have also kept it to myself for a reason; a very good reason."

I couldn't think of a worthy enough reason to hide it from me, but I did not argue. "Does Watson know?"

"He will. Eventually."

"He needs to know. As do I."

Holmes visibly grimaced at the idea of this. Either he wanted the mighty knowledge to himself, or he really didn't want us to know. I had this sick assumption that it was actually Mary, but I realized the absurdity of that idea very quickly. "I will tell you as soon as I can."

"You have to promise me," I warned.

Sherlock nodded. "I promise with every fiber of my being."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to catch a glimpse of honestly, which eventually I did. His eyes weren't blinking which a clear sign that he wasn't lying. "Go and catch Hoffmanstahl before he disappears," I mumbled, brushing his cheeks with the back of my fingers. "… And clean yourself up before your dinner date."

I genuinely didn't want Irene to have a hold on him. I had fought for him for too long; I had lost too much to just let him slip through my fingers. I would try a little bit, and if he changed his mind and went back to her, then I would succumb. I only wanted to see him happy.

My toes rose to plant a kiss on his marred cheek. As I went to touch his skin, I felt something softer upon my lips. His own lips were pressed against mine, firmly stating his regret. It wasn't a simple goodbye kiss. It was a true guarantee. When he spoke, his words were filled with angst. "I don't mean for these things to happen."

"Just go," I smiled. "I understand."

"No, Renadale, I… I mean it. My right mind may be far away from me at this moment, but somehow you seem to handle that. You tolerate me better than most, and for that I am solemnly in your debt." I smiled, still not understanding the broad confession. "The point is, I am not troubled because I know that you understand my lack of justifications at times like this. I didn't realize it was you who I needed until I had lost you."

He broke from my grasp just then, as my heart somehow tore and put itself together at the same time. Those words were the most loving he had ever uttered. Because of his words, I felt comfortable letting him go to her. He wouldn't leave me. He had tried just as hard as I had to keep me around.

And for that, I was the one truly in debt.

~.~.~.~.~.~

More goodies yet to come! Keep reading if you want to see… Action! Romance! Murders! Gypsies! And much more!

What happens when the mystical Sim comes into play? How will Renadale feel about the wedding? Will everyone make it out unfazed? STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT :D

And please review. Kay, thanks. Bye. (: