I hope you like this little mix of Helluva Boss, with Sherlock Holmes characters. This is an AU. For those who don't understand, Blitz would play the great Sherlock Holmes, Moxxie would be his loyal companion Watson and Loona would play the great Irene Adler.

London, 1895. Dark night. The streets were wet with fog and seemed like an endless labyrinth. Carriages moved slowly along the cobbled streets, while street lamps flickered weakly, casting disturbing shadows on the city's ancient facades. Inside the restaurant Le Rêve, a corner of luxury forgotten by time, three figures occupied a table in the far corner of the room.

Blitzo was reclining, his ungainly posture contrasting with the luxury that surrounded him. His brown trench coat, old and worn, had a dusty, almost ghostly air, as if he himself had merged with the shadows of the city. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, and his gaze slid restlessly around the surroundings, as if searching for something he could not define. His dark blue eyes, always alert, radiated a contained energy, a constant thread of thought that never seemed to rest. His face was slightly pale, marked by sleepless nights, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Beside him, Moxxie and Millie were engaged in a lighter conversation, oblivious to the mental storm raging through Blitzo. Moxxie, impeccably mannered, was dressed in a neat black suit, his moustache trimmed precisely. His voice was soft but high-pitched, filled with the precision of a man who adored rules, order and structure. Millie, beside him, was dressed in an elegant navy blue dress, her hair simply pulled back, her face lit by a sincere smile as she spoke of trivialities, as if the complexities of the world were nothing more than a passing distraction.

Blitzo reached into one of the inside pockets of his coat. With quick, eager fingers, he pulled out a small ampoule and a syringe. Without making much noise, he punctured the thin membrane and injected it into his arm, barely noticing the slight sting. Momentary ecstasy slid through his veins like a warm caress, clouding for a moment the thoughts that never ceased. It was his little escape, his personal demon. Drugs had been his faithful companions for a long time, when the weight of intellect overwhelmed him and he needed to silence the voices that crowded his mind.

"Blitz, are you okay?" Moxxie asked, noticing the gesture.

Blitzo looked up, disconnected for a second from reality, but still lucid enough to maintain his facade. He smiled just barely, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, but it was enough to reassure his friend.

"Perfectly, Moxxie. Just enjoying the atmosphere." His voice had a deep tone, sharp, like a knife ready to cut.

Millie frowned, looking at the small vial that Blitzo discreetly put back in his coat. She knew what it meant. She had seen it before, but she never said anything. Blitzo's intellect came with a price: the solitude of his own mind. And in London, with its dark secrets and unsolved mysteries, that price was paid dearly.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the side of the table, interrupting the conversation. It was the waitress, a tall, thin woman, wrapped in a black uniform that highlighted her rigid demeanor. Her face was stern, marked by sharp angles, and her eyes, beneath her work hat, glittered with an almost uncomfortable intensity. When she spoke, it was with a thick Germanic accent that resonated in the air with a calculated coldness.

"Guten Abend, meine Herren, meine Dame," she said, without smiling. "May I take your orders?"

Blitzo looked up, and in an instant, he felt something inside him tense. There was something strange about the woman before him. Her eyes… he had seen them before, somewhere. Her voice, though disguised under that foreign accent, was vaguely familiar. But he couldn't place it yet, as if his mind, still numbed by the drug, was trying to put together pieces of an incomplete puzzle.

Moxxie, always the most formal, took the lead, politely ordering his dish. Millie did the same, though her attention was divided between the conversation and the way Blitzo watched the waitress.

"And you, sir?" "The waitress asked," she said, turning to Blitzo.

Blitzo tilted his head, studying her closely. There was something in the way she held the tray, in her posture. But more than that, there was something in her eyes. They were not the eyes of an ordinary waitress; there was cunning, a keen intelligence hidden behind that façade of servility.

"A whiskey," he said, keeping his gaze fixed on her, almost challenging her. "And tell me… where are you from?"

The waitress looked at him directly, without wavering.

"Germany, sir. Berlin, to be exact."

Blitzo narrowed his eyes. No, something didn't fit. The tension in his body increased, and a disturbing thought began to form in his mind, one he tried to dismiss but couldn't ignore.

The waitress nodded briefly and walked away, but Blitzo didn't take his eyes off her until she disappeared behind the curtain leading to the kitchen.

Moxxie watched him curiously.

"Blitz, everything okay? You seem... upset."

Blitzo didn't answer right away. His mind, always quick, was beginning to string together details. The posture. The look. That slight tremor in her hands as she held the tray. And, above all, the feeling that he knew her, though he couldn't place where from. It was as if there was something buried deep in his memory trying to surface.

"Did the waitress look familiar to you?" he finally asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Moxxie arched an eyebrow.

"No... not particularly. Although, now that you mention it, there was something... off about her?"

Millie frowned.

"You're paranoid, Blitz. She's just a waitress."

Blitzo shook his head, more to himself than to the others.

"No, it isn't. There's something else. I'm sorry."

The air in the restaurant became thick, almost suffocating. The conversation at the nearby tables faded in his ears, while his attention was completely fixed on that figure that disappeared behind the curtain. His mind was racing, searching for some memory that could explain what he felt.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, leaving Moxxie and Millie surprised.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said, although it was obvious that wasn't his intention.

He walked to the back of the restaurant, following the same path the waitress had taken. He crossed the curtain and entered a narrow hallway that led to the kitchens. But there was no sign of her. The place was empty, except for the distant voices of the cooks.

Blitzo leaned against a wall, closing his eyes for a moment. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. But then he felt it: a light touch on his shoulder.

He snapped his eyes open and turned around.

There she was.

The waitress was staring at him, but this time without the mask of politeness. Her eyes, those eyes that so disturbed him, pierced him as if they could see his every thought. Then, something changed. The Germanic accent disappeared, and the voice that came from her lips was clear, familiar, painfully real.

"Five years, Blitzo," Loona said, her voice soft but firm. "And you still remember me."

The world seemed to stop.

"Loona," Blitzo whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. The intensity of the revelation hit him like a wave that took his breath away. There she was. After so much time. After so much suffering, so much emptiness.

Loona took off her hat, letting her dark hair fall in soft waves over her shoulders. The waitress, the mask, everything disappeared in that moment. All that was left was her. The woman who had been his equal, his partner, the only one who had been able to understand his complexity, and also his loneliness.

"I never forgot you," he finally said, Blitzo's voice barely a whisper. But even as he spoke those words, he knew he didn't need to tell her. Loona knew. She had always known.

Blitzo fell silent, watching Loona with a mix of disbelief and suppressed despair. Five years had passed, five years since she disappeared without a trace, like a ghost that vanished into the shadows of London. He had moved on, or at least tried to, but there was always something holding him back, something that kept him anchored to the memory of that woman who, without a doubt, had been the only one capable of entering his dark, labyrinthine world.

Loona took a step towards him, her gaze impenetrable and her posture tense, as if she were prepared for any reaction. The silence between them was dense, heavy, like a storm that threatened to break at any moment. Blitzo clenched his fists, his thoughts fluttering frantically like crazed crows. But he couldn't move, couldn't articulate the questions that were boiling in his mind.

"Why?" "I had to, Blitz." Loona's voice was heavy with weariness, a pain that Blitzo recognized instantly. "If I had stayed…" She paused, as if the words hurt as they came out. "I would have dragged you down with me. And I couldn't do that to you."

Blitzo took a step toward her, now unable to contain the tension that throbbed in his chest. His face had hardened, and his dark eyes shone in the dim light of the hallway. There was some anger in his gaze, but mostly, a latent desperation.

"And you think it's better to disappear? To vanish without a word?" Blitzo raised his voice, but his tone was not aggressive; It was a stifled cry from someone who had felt abandoned. "Damn it, Loona… you left me in an abyss."

Loona didn't back down, though Blitzo's intensity was palpable. She kept her gaze fixed on him, defiant but vulnerable. In those five years, she had learned to emotionally shield herself, but now, in front of him, those defenses were shaky.

"I couldn't stand it either, Blitz." Her voice trembled, but she quickly regained control. "Every day… every damn day I thought about going back. But I couldn't. London wasn't safe for me. Or for you."

Blitzo snorted bitterly. He knew there was something else behind her disappearance, he knew that Loona's life in London had been marked by constant secrets and threats. But that didn't justify the feeling of emptiness she had left in his life, nor the hole that had consumed him all that time.

"You don't know what it was like to look for you," he murmured, more to himself than to her. You don't know how many nights I spent chasing ghosts, wondering where the hell you were.

Loona pressed her lips together, clearly affected by his words, but she stood her ground. It wasn't easy for her either, and the wound of his departure still burned within her.

"And what do you expect me to tell you now?" she asked in a broken voice, not losing her firmness. "That it was a mistake? That I should have stayed?" She let out a bitter laugh, full of pain. "You know as well as I do that that wouldn't have worked. It would have destroyed you, Blitzo."

Blitzo lowered his head, feeling the weight of his emotions crushing him. In part, Loona was right. If she had stayed, the risk would have been too great. London was a dark place, full of dangers, both external and internal. And at the center of it all, there was him, the brilliant but tortured Blitzo, always on the verge of an irreversible fall.

"I didn't care, Loona," he rasped, barely holding back his tears. "If I had been destroyed, at least it would have been with you."

Loona looked at him, pain evident. Blitzo's words pierced through her, stirring up all the emotions she had tried to bury. She had always known how he felt about her, how deep their bond was. She had felt it every time she looked at him, every time they solved a case together, every time, in the silence of the night, they shared the same space, not saying a word, but knowing they had each other.

"Blitzo…" she said softly, her voice finally breaking. "I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you."

The words hung in the air between them, creating a pause that seemed to stop time. Blitzo looked at her, incredulous, as if he couldn't process what he had just heard. Loona took a step closer, her eyes locked on his, filled with a mix of pain, regret, and something deeper, something that not even the passing of years had been able to extinguish.

"I always carried this with me." —Loona reached up to her neck, pulling out a small silver locket that hung from a thin chain. She carefully opened it, revealing a tiny photograph inside. It was the same picture that Blitzo had kept all this time: a photo of the two of them, taken years ago, before everything fell apart. Loona held the locket in her palm, offering it to Blitzo as proof that, despite everything, she had always kept that bond alive.

Blitzo felt his heart break at the sight of that image. He too carried a similar object with him, a constant reminder of what he had lost. He pulled out his own, a simple photo he had kept between the pages of a paperback book, worn by time but no less meaningful.

Loona reached out and took Blitzo's hand, a simple gesture, but one laden with repressed emotion. Neither of them spoke for a moment; words seemed useless in the face of the intensity of everything they had lived through and what they still felt.

"Sooner or later I was going to find you, Loona," Blitzo said, his tone softer, almost tender. "I'm not a man who gives up easily."

Loona nodded, her eyes shining in the dim light of the hallway.

"And now that you have, Blitz…" she whispered, "what do you plan to do?"

The question hung between them. Blitzo knew that after everything they'd been through, it wouldn't be easy to pick up where they'd left off. But he also knew that he'd never stopped wanting her. Loona was his equal, his complement in more ways than he could count. And now that she was back, he wasn't about to let her go again.

Without thinking, Blitzo closed the distance between them and kissed her, a kiss laden with all the years of separation, all the unspoken words, all the pain and repressed passion. Loona responded with the same intensity, as if this moment had been inevitable from the beginning. There was no need for explanations, there weren't enough words to encompass what that kiss meant.

When they finally broke apart, Blitzo looked at her with a renewed determination.

"This time, Loona," he said quietly, "there's no turning back."

Loona looked at him, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding in her chest. She had dreamed of this moment so many times that now, having it before her, it seemed unreal, as if her mind was playing tricks on her. Yet there was Blitzo, more real and more vulnerable than ever. His dark eyes held no trace of doubt, and his grip on her hand was firm, as if he feared that if he let go, she might vanish again.

"There's no turning back…" Loona repeated in a whisper, her eyes locked on Blitzo's.

A part of her was relieved to hear those words. There was no room for escape this time, nor for the excuses she had told herself over the years. But another part of her feared what came next. The London she had left behind was not safe, and she knew that her return would bring consequences. She was willing to face them, but fear for Blitzo tormented her. He had always been a magnet for danger, and she had sworn to protect him, even from herself.

"It's not just me, Blitz…" she whispered, looking away for a moment, as if afraid the intensity of the moment would overwhelm her. "There are still things you don't know, things that haunt me, shadows I haven't been able to leave behind."

Blitzo let out a short, almost bitter laugh, but there was tenderness in it.

"And you think that's going to scare me?" he said, his hand tightening around Loona's. "I live in the shadows, Loona. Danger is part of me. Whatever's chasing you… now it's going to have to face both of us."

Loona felt a rush of heat run through her body at Blitzo's words. She had forgotten how much that reckless confidence had attracted her, that ability of his to face the world without hesitation. It wasn't just bravery, it was a kind of madness that had always united them. Two broken souls, who had found a home in the chaos.

"I missed you so much…" Loona murmured, her voice cracking slightly as she finally admitted it.

Blitzo didn't respond with words, but his gaze said it all. Slowly, he raised a hand and caressed Loona's face, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was real, that she wasn't a dream that could evaporate with the dawn. Loona closed her eyes at Blitzo's touch, letting the emotions wash over her for a moment.

When she opened her eyes again, his gaze had changed. The fear and doubt were still there, but they had been displaced by something deeper, older. Something that neither five years nor an ocean of distance could extinguish.

"So, if there's no turning back…" she whispered, moving closer to Blitzo, until their lips almost touched again. "Where do we start?"

Blitzo smirked, that sly, dangerous grin that had always driven her crazy. It was the Blitzo she knew, the one who never gave up, the one who always found a way out, no matter how dark the path.

"We start here, Loona," he replied, without hesitation. "We start with us."