Purgatory in D-Minor (2/?
Here's part two:
Next morning he does his best to clean up before Irene arrives, at the usual time despite the disruption in routine. It's not nearly enough. He can see bruises blossomed deeply across his right brow and cheekbone, the edges fading to a sickly green. The split where Henry's ring gouged his lip is a deep maroon mar across mostly bloodless flesh. It cracks and bleeds a little when he attempts a smile for the ghoul in the mirror.
The look she gives him as he turns from the washbasin is disapproving and a little sad. Her dark eyes flicker across the obvious marks, down to his collar, buttoned for once to hide the bruises ringing his neck. The frown on her face deepens. He feels suddenly angry at her scrutiny, but does his best to let it go. She's the only company he has since Mary stopped visiting a little over three weeks ago. If she stops coming he'll be completely on his own until Watson makes time for him.
"You look well." He greets. She doesn't really, She's lost weight, but so many have since the changeover. Henry says some initial economic downturn is to be expected.
"I wish I could say the same of you." Her eyes are still troubled, but she keeps her tone light, ever mindful of the guard stationed just outside the open doorway. "Are you hungry? I've brought muffins."
"You really shouldn't have." It's his turn to frown at her as he takes the basket to set up breakfast on the little table. It's been riffled through, but the muffins; five large blueberry; are unharmed. And there's butter. Mary must have packed it then, Irene wouldn't have thought of it. He thinks on how much the fresh ingredients must have cost them and makes a resolve to see that Irene eats more than her share. After all, he gets fed regularly, when he deserves it.
Feeling the need to lighten the mood a bit, he grins rakishly and her, and pulls out her chair with a flourish. She wrinkles her nose at him in that way that almost makes her look charming. It occurs to him, as she's adjusting her skirts, that he hasn't seen her in trousers since the moral safety laws were enacted. He rather misses it. The skirts are to feminine. They clash with the sardonic quirk of her mouth and the unkempt set of her curls. He imagines she still pulls them on from time to time, behind closed doors, if only to amuse Mary. The sudden image makes him chuckle out loud.
"What's so funny, Mr Holmes?" She demands archly.
"I was just thinking how very ladylike you look." He can't keep the amusement from spilling over into his voice.
The blistering glare she favors him with is all Irene, and she 'hums' in agreement. "Almost as much as you do." And then giggles as, in a fit of pique, he sticks his tongue out at her.
He seats himself and within moments they're bantering back and forth almost as they used to, the guard not forgotten, simply ignored. She pretends not to notice when he serves her three muffins to his one. It is peaceful and distracting and he is thoroughly enjoying himself. Soon they've finished eating and moved towards the window seating at the far end of the sitting room. There they can talk more easily without being overheard.
"So tell me," She asks conspiratorially, "How have you been keeping yourself bust since I saw you last?" He doesn't want to tell her how often he's resorted to taking the drugs, so he says, "Oh I've been doing a bit of research with convenient odds and ends. As well as quite a lot of reading. I've gone through nearly half the library since I got here, did you know? And I helped Henry with a bit of a minor mystery the other day."
To her credit there is only the briefest flicker of anger when he mentions his host. "Did you now?"
"Indeed. Nothing up to my usual fare, but it did prove a bit of a challenge, especially with the lack of evidence I had to work with. Do you remember that boy, Kearney, who helped me track you when you were in London three years ago?" She nods faintly, and he presses on, eager for the reveal he was not allowed at the end of the case. "Well he's now a member of the personal guard. And apparently he's been doing the most peculiar thing. Every time he receives his pay, he deposits it in the bank, then withdraws it immediately after, sending it via courier to an establishment in downtown. An Inn if I'm not much mistaken. Henry was wondering if he were perhaps in need of money to settle gambling debts. But I managed to ascertain, and thusly reassure him, that he was only sending it via coach to his wife and child in Dublin..."He trails off. He's not certain what he expected her reaction to be, but stunned silence isn't it. "What is it?
"Nothing." She smiles at him, but it's forced and he can tell she's lying. He doesn't press, unsure if he wants to know what he's said to upset her.
Fishing for a change of subject, he tells her, "My latest research project is going well. I've been making a study of the traces of ash left by different types of tobacco; pipe, cigarette, and cigar. It's hindered a bit by the fact that I've only my own and what I can borrow off the guards to work with. But Watson's promised to bring me a few more samples when he visits next."
He knows immediately that this was the wrong thing to say she lets out the barest gasp, and her eyes glisten with sudden tears. He doesn't think he's ever seen her cry. The feeling of unease grows when she, never a 'gentlewoman, gently takes his hands in hers and uses his given name.
"Sherlock...I'm not certain how to tell you this. I-that is we- well haven't told you before, because we haven't wanted to worry you, or..." And here she tilts her head in the direction of the open door,"...cause trouble for you." She breaks off, staring intently at the floor. "Our dear Doctor Watson has been missing the last four weeks. That's why I haven't been bringing Mary with me. She's been using her free time to search for him. But we're having no luck." She lowers her voice further. "We think Blackwood may have had him killed."
//Four weeks would put it just after I saw him last//, He thinks. //But--// He jumps up. "Don't be ridiculous. He can't be missing. I'm due a visit from him next week! Henry says he's been keeping him busy. Perhaps he hasn't had cause to come home. Perhaps he's had time to rethink his feelings for Miss Morsten!" He regrets it the moment he's said it, but she can't possibly be telling the truth. The very idea makes him sick with the wrongness of it.
Her eyes flash with anger. "Don't let your jealousy cloud your judgement. You know as well as I do he's got no other place to go!"
"Henry promised that if I stayed with him you would all be safe. Why would he have any of you killed?" He hears the desperation in his own voice, but rationality has gone out the window at the thought that his Watson might be--No, it wasn't possible!
"What makes you so sure that this man would keep his word to you? What proof do you have that Watson is still alive? That he's not simply telling you these things to keep you compliant?"
//I would have felt it, if he were gone!// He thinks as she continues.
"After all that's why he allows me to visit. Why I'm supervised, to keep me from telling you things he doesn't think you should know!" She is outright yelling at this point and he raises a hand to quiet her, but she continues forcefully. "He is not a good man Holmes, and he does lie to you. What about that case you solved for him? What did you say he'd told you? That he was worried about the man's gambling debts?!"
"Yes, but--"
"He used you, don't you see it? He had that man executed publicly, for the 'moral crime' of having a family outside the Empire! And three visitors at that 'Inn' that were helping him. They were draw and quartered, Holmes! They suffered horribly, and all because of evidence you dug up for him!"
He collapses back into the seat, burying his face in his hands. He wants to tear at his hair with the horror of it, bat cannot seem to move. "I swear to you, I didn't know!"
"Of course you didn't." Her tone is softer now, regretful. She comes to kneel in front of him. "But don't you see? This just proves he's lied to you before. None of us is truly safe in London anymore, least of all you. You should leave this place. Come away with us."
His head shoots up and he stares at her incredulously. "But I can't, I mustn't! What if you're wrong? If he even though I was contemplating it...What if Watson really is here? If I left he would do anything. Hunt me down, you and Mary too. He could even kill John--!" He breaks off trembling and she again takes his hands in hers.
"If you would just listen to me." But whatever she is about to say is cut off by a commotion in the hall. He blanches, remembering the guard far too late.
Henry's towering frame fills the doorway, cold rage emanating from it. "What in the Name of all things Holy is going on?"