Oh! Hello! I didn't see you there for a moment.

…

I'm terribly sorry. I feel as though I should say something to you, but I just don't know quite what to say.

I'm not one for social interactions. Haha!

Haha…

Hm. Well. I guess I can just give you my best wishes.

I hope you enjoy reading this story! Not that I know who you are. But, I guess since you're here, you must have some liking for it, right?

Well. Okay. I'm going to leave now.

~Renadale

~.~.~.~.~

No one had wanted to sit next to me. A few pompous men and woman had stuck their heads in, but when they saw a pauper boy seated in first class, that was enough to shudder them straight down the hallway. I was certainly glad of it. I had even locked my door on one occasion when someone looked particularly keen on sharing my booth.

The whistle of the train had just sounded its warning of departure. That wasn't what caught my attention. Just outside of my door I could see Sherlock's curled, blonde wig struggling to get to the bathroom. My breath was halted so I could get a better grasp of his conversation.

"I'm sorry, madam." A conductor began to speak. I applauded myself on being able to pass him as a woman. "You can't use the lavatory while the train is in the station." Sherlock's bright red lips pouted a sour look before the man headed in the opposite direction.

Sherlock Holmes, what are you up to? I quietly knocked on the window to grab his attention. He gave me a startled look before peaking his head inside. "John and Mary are in the seat beside you. Don't make things obvious. Don't act like you know me." His voice was harsh before he slammed the door shut in my face.

There was no doubt about it. I could see the plan he had up his sleeve as clear as I could see the manliness behind his makeup.

If he was already up to his plans, then what was I supposed to be doing? My arms folded across my chest as I sat in wonderment. With nothing to read or look at, I was left once again with my dear friend, silence. He was not as nice as he sounded. In fact, I loathed him at that moment.

Another whistle from the train blew and we were off. I could hear the clacking of the wheels moving beneath my seat. I hadn't been on a train in ages and the familiar humming was a pleasant sound to my ears. Trains were marvelous inventions. What else did the world need besides that? As far as I was concerned, everything worth being invented had been done so.

I wasn't sure how long the machine had been moving, but we were out into the English countryside before I knew could even completely doze off. Something dripped down my chin as I stumbled away. It was a good thing that I dressed like a boy, because my drool was far from lady like. My hands quickly scrubbed it away before anyone was to barge in.

And it was perfect timing too.

"Well!" I shouted as Sherlock burst into my room. His skirts got caught in the doorway, and he grunted in anger as he tugged them out of the slot. He wasn't afraid of looking exasperated when he sat down across from me. His eyes were wild beneath their blue shadow and for a second I thought he was going to scream.

"They're taking too long!" His voice was sour as he responded.

"For what?"

"Someone is going to try and trick Watson and Mary."

"The Watsons, you mean. They're married."

"For now, anyway." He flapped a hand and continued with his heated words. "I don't know how Moriarty's men are going to trick them, or with what, but so far no one has even knocked on their door. I'm fearing that I got into these hose for nothing."

A frown drooped onto my face. "Well, what if they're there right now and you're missing your chance?" We both read the same idea in the other's face and stumbled towards the door to peek our heads out. The sight before us was enough to get our blood pumping. A man cladded in red began to walk down the hallway with a bottle of glitzy champagne perfectly placed in his hand. He didn't stop until he was at John's cabin. Our heads flew back behind the door in fear of catching his eye. "Is that him?"

"Wait for it." His slim finger rose to his lips.

There was a knock on the door.

Someone slid it open on it's tracks.

It was difficult to hear over the thumping of the train, but a quiet, "With our compliments, sir," was clear enough for us to catch. The concierge was giving John and Mary a bottle of booze. But why?

"Sherlock, I don't think-" My words were cut off by the squeaking of a train whistle. Above us, the electrical lamp flickered for a moment before bursting back into life. Mary's scream was quick to follow. "I don't think we have to wait much longer!" I finished my sentence before darting out into the hallway.

"Wait!" Sherlock's rough hands pulled me back inside. "Just give them a moment!" My face was hot beyond compare. Our friends were in danger and he was telling me to wait! Part of me questioned my fighting abilities, and the other half blamed it on a secret plan Sherlock had failed to mention.

There was always one of those.

"I think it's time for you to leave." Mary's voice was clear from the thin walls between us. It sounded like they had things under control. However, Sherlock Holmes was not with them. Therefore, they were probably still in danger. As much as I hated to admit it, we were all sort of lost without him.

Then again, if we had never met him, we would have been even more splendid.

"Renadale, come." Sherlock began to tug me towards the cabin on the opposite side. I didn't argue. Instead, I let him lock me in the darkness. The light bulb never regained its glow after the power shut off in that cabin; the only thing I could make out clearly was his astoundingly blue eye powder. "Someone else is coming down the hallway. I'm going to take care of things." Despite the tension, his voice was reasonably calm.

"You are?" My voice was not quite as delicate.

"Yes." He paused. "If I need your help, you will give it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." My large eyes could not seem to pull away from his face. Based on instinct, my fingers brushed a blonde curl from his face. Naturally, it felt a bit strange. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me, but we both decided it was proper moment with a sharp turn of our heads. He was also wearing lipstick.

Lipstick? I began to recall a time upon which Sherlock teased Watson about being a drag. The memory did not last long.

Without even a small warning, Sherlock threw back the door and sent a punch with his elbow to a man in the corridor. I gasped in surprise at the suddenly brusque nature. No one could hear my audible shock as Sherlock turned to send a bullet whizzing down the hall.

"What are you doing?" My hands nearly pulled the gun away from him. Until I saw two more men heading our way.

"Duck!" His voice was firm as he lifted the gun towards my head. With another shriek, I did as I was told. Two more bullets were sent whirling over my newsboy cap.

As metal continued to soar through the air, I decided that it was best if I stayed on the floor. Things had finally quieted down, until the cocking of a gun caught us off guard. John held it firmly beneath Sherlock's chin, even after the horrible shock flickered onto his face. I was unsure whether to blame the disbelief on his unexpected appearance, or the lipstick tumbling down his face.

"I agree it's not my best disguise, but I had to make do." Sherlock's long lashes slowly flickered towards me. "We had to make do." Pathetically, I gave John a small wave before his face turned to one of repulsion.

John wasn't going to get a word in. Before he had a chance to, Sherlock shoved John inside of his compartment, and I quickly stumbled into the doorway as well. Mary wore the same look that John did. "Renadale?" I believed she sincerely thought me to be a man at first. "My God!"

There was no time for explanations. "They'll be back." Sherlock said firmly.

"John!" Mary's voice was weak as she struggled to grasp the situation. "Shut the door!" None of us blamed her for being upset. This wasn't exactly the ideal honeymoon.

"They'll only shoot through it, my love," her fiancée responded bitterly.

Sherlock tried to console her, but nothing seemed to work. "He's right, you know." Mary's head was literally spinning as she sat herself down.

"I know you probably wonder about our crazy adventures," I chuckled darkly. "Now you at least get to say that you've been in one!" Her eyes matched the color of her hair. "Or… you can just forget this ever happened."

"I understand." Sherlock continued an attempt of comfort.

Mary's leaned in a bit closer, narrowing her eyes into threatening slits. "Do you?" Mary had never been a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes. I had heard that she tossed wine into his face upon their first meeting. The distasteful look she held for Sherlock on the train was a clear example of her prime fury.

"Terribly inconvenient!" Sherlock rose from his seat. That was all of the pep talk he had inside of him. Things went straight back to business. "We don't have much time." I watched as he peeked his torso out of the train. What was he looking for? Mary stood up in bewilderment, but I was quick to take her hands in mine.

"I wish I could tell you that I knew what was going on."

"My honeymoon was supposed to be perfect!"

"And it will be!" I ensured. "I'm just afraid that it might not happen exactly when you thought it would."

John's voice interrupted all of our thoughts as the cold, night air rustled through the cabin. "How many are we expecting?" I honestly did not want to know the answer to that.

"Half a dozen!" Sherlock replied with his head still outside.

"Brilliant." My scoff was loud enough for the whole party to catch.

"Who are they?" John nearly laughed as he spoke the question. He just wanted to go to Brighton with Mary. Was it really that much to ask? Now he was stuck in a shooting, and little did he know, he was actually going to Paris.

"A wedding present," Sherlock snickered. "From Moriarty." Mary's head snapped towards me in fear. I took her arms in mine for some form of support. Words failed me. "Lovely wedding ceremony, by the way!" Holmes interrupted our bond. "Many a tear shed in joy!"

She sighed and turned away from Sherlock. "Oh, John!"

Sherlock must have caught the peeved glare I sent him. "I'm sorry." He shrugged with a whisper. "I thought it would lighten the mood."

Before any of us could get another word in, John was firing at more men down the hallway. "Just a minute, darling!" I wished that I could be of help, but once again, I found myself without a weapon and without motivation. What did Sherlock have in store for Mary? Was she to go to Paris as well? And on that note, what did he have in store for me? If he wanted me to fight then why did he not supply me with a gun?

I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to notice Sherlock holding Mary tightly in his grasp. When I finally caught sight of the strange scene, I did not let the confusion disperse. "Sherlock? What are you…?"

"Do you trust me?" He was completely ignoring my question. All of his focus was on the new bride before him.

Her voice was as firm as the gun in John's hand. "No!"

"Well then I shall…" Sherlock's eyes glanced towards Watson who was obviously too preoccupied to be focusing on anyone else but his targets. "… have to do something about that."

"What?" I nearly shrieked. My whole body inched closer, but it was already too late.

He was throwing Mary out of the window.

She was there. I blinked. She was gone. Completely gone. I would have screamed at the top of my lungs if it weren't for Sherlock's tight clamp over my mouth. We were both situated dangerously close to the edge. His body was pressed firmly against mine, and he had the advantage as my torso leaned over the threshold. His hands smelled like gunpowder under my nose.

Something strange was happening at that moment. He was shoving me closer towards the edge until I had to hold onto both sides of the door for protection. He was trying to push me over? The look of horror I gave him must have been enough to touch his soft spot. What kind of monster was he?

"Don't scream!" He whispered harshly before taking his hands from my mouth.

I did as I was ordered, but I could not stop to ask the question. "Why?" Anyone else might have seen him as a murderer, but I could see the pain and struggle lying beneath his eyes. I knew he was going to push me. He was much stronger than I. The only choice I had was the icy water. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because…" He began to speak, but his eyes tauntingly pulled away from me. Whatever he was about to say looked more painful on his face than the cuts he had received in the sewer.

What could grieve him so much that he was reduced to shoving me out of a train? Was I really that bad of a companion?

"Sherlock!" I repeated harshly under my breath. The water beneath us was almost gone. The bridge was nearly over. He was going to push me, whether I liked it or not. And I didn't have much time. "Sherlock, why are you doing this?"

There was another pause of hesitation. His eyes struggled to stay connected with mine. I watched as they darted all around me, but never on my actual face. When he finally answered my question, his eyes were sealed shut.

"Because I love you!"

I did not have time to feel anything else. His arms pulled away from me. The warmth of them was gone. Before I knew it, I was drowning in a river of ice.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Did anyone catch the Kisses of Ten chapter 4 reference? (:

Please review. xx