Lies, Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie), Irene/Mary
He knows. He must know. There is no way he can't know, not after what he's seen them do. He is Sherlock Holmes, of course he knows. Mary wrings her hands, walking back and forth, waiting for Sherlock to come out of his room. Waiting for him to tell her that he knows, that he will tell John, that he wants to kill her for stealing his beloved. Mary almost laughs at that, through her anxiety. As if Irene could ever belong to anyone but herself.
"Sometimes, a little lie won't hurt anyone," Sherlock says from behind her. Mary jumps, she hasn't heard him sneaking up on her.
"What do you mean?" she asks. He smiles at her, that smile without any warmth in it.
"I mean, Mrs Watson, that I won't tell if you won't. This is something best kept secret, wouldn't you agree?" he says, and she nods. "Besides, as I'm sure you know, there is no such thing as tribadism. It's a myth created by those perverted men who would do anything, even have intercourse for reasons other than having babies."
He is looking straight at her, and Mary can feel herself flush. It's as if he's reading her mind, and she's not sure whether she likes it or not.
"Yes, well, Mr Holmes, some people will believe anything," she says.
"Indeed they will, Mrs Watson," he says. "Now, was that all? I'm in a terribly sensitive stage with my..."
"Yes, thank you, Mr Holmes," Mary says, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. "Good day."
She leaves, head held high, but mind still spinning.
"Sometimes, a little lie won't hurt anyone," Sherlock says from behind her. Mary jumps, she hasn't heard him sneaking up on her.
"What do you mean?" she asks. He smiles at her, that smile without any warmth in it.
"I mean, Mrs Watson, that I won't tell if you won't. This is something best kept secret, wouldn't you agree?" he says, and she nods. "Besides, as I'm sure you know, there is no such thing as tribadism. It's a myth created by those perverted men who would do anything, even have intercourse for reasons other than having babies."
He is looking straight at her, and Mary can feel herself flush. It's as if he's reading her mind, and she's not sure whether she likes it or not.
"Yes, well, Mr Holmes, some people will believe anything," she says.
"Indeed they will, Mrs Watson," he says. "Now, was that all? I'm in a terribly sensitive stage with my..."
"Yes, thank you, Mr Holmes," Mary says, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. "Good day."
She leaves, head held high, but mind still spinning.