lacuna|FINISHED

[thehessian]

[/i] were quite easy to see coming, after all. They would usually start with some fat couple early in the morning, or expectant young children with their grabbing hands and raucous, high pitched little voices begging their parents to let them pet whatever unfortunate horse happened to be harnessed to the carriage at the time. Thusfar, thankfully, neither of those things had yet happened. In fact, if anything, it was quiet. The morning may have still been young, and his paycheck may have counted on those patrons, but Heinrich didn't care. It was quiet, and it was almost a blessing. Almost.

Idly he stroked the neck of the young mare that he currently had attached to the dark-wood carriage sitting idle and thusfar unused for the day. She was his personal favourite of the many others penned in the stables; thoroughly inky black from ear to hoof, powerful and feisty with a quick pace and a quicker running speed in comparison to the others he had seen. It wasn't much of a wonder that she had been decided as the goblin horse mount for the sporadically annual sprees of death - or, at least, it wouldn't be if anyone had more than their ignorance for their company. Not that it could be complained about, of course. The less they knew - or at least had to know - the better off things were.

With a quiet snort, the horse lowered her head in contentment, hoof scraping against the ground as it was relaxed, tip down, on the pavement. In silence, Heinrich's hand continued stroking lightly the side of her neck, paying little attention to the action as his eyes surveyed the expanse of open park across from them. They seemed to be emerging from every which way, really, these people. Groups of women with shrieking children, young foolhardy couples, people of all shapes, sizes, and evident origins as the morning sun slowly continued it's rise into the afternoon. What fascinated them so about this place? Was it simply that they had to travel in packs at all times? By day no less.

He could hear their footsteps around as some of them walked the winding pathway, but paid no mind to them. Heinrich knew already what they did - enough so that there wasn't a point to looking and attempting to drum up business as he was supposed to. They would talk to one another and smile and look at the carriage to pass it by, naturally. It was only usually the tourists that bothered with carriage rides they sold anyway. Either they were or weren't; truthfully, he didn't much care (no surprises there) of which they chose. It was all for money, and that....well, that could only be useful to a person for so long. Shame some people had to find that out the...unconventional way.[/ul]

[philosopher]

Everywhere Holmes tread, he saw couples. The morning, it seemed, was full of them.

He walked with his hands in his pockets, head down. Except for those occasioal shifty glances he would give, when he would almost every time see some pair. Mismates walking in a similar manner as he. Couplets laughing hand-in-hand. Holmes wondered, must everyone have some complement hanging off their arm? He wondered more and more as the morning went on. It became evident to him he had become somewhat of a stern, silent neighbour who had never so much as looked at a city woman, possessed against them and continued to regard any female that took an interest with unamusement, and never failed to make the devil horns secretly when such occasions appeared.

It all made him think of her, and he didn't like it.

Just the thought of her seemed to rise something up in the man's throat and choke him. He stopped walking and made a violent motion following by a short and quick pound of the fist against his chest, as if to free himself from something. What had happened to him - was he suddenly possessed, or was he losing his wits? Holmes was now thirty years old, without kith or kin that any one knew of; living in a good house, and keeping it clean and decent, almost as a woman might; not likely ever to change his condition, it was supposed. The Woman, as he would refer to her as, was the only woman standing to have ever impressed him.

Holmes did not keep walking, falteringly he let his suddenly wistful eyes drop on the ground, with only now and then a timid, appealing glance. She laughed for pleasure, and her eyes shone like stars. He supposed he felt some emotion akin to love for her, and he supposed too she was always the woman. But that in itself was an evil thing, bringing things worse than sin and death. Distraction, vulnerability.

Yet still, he wondered what his dreaded woman was doing now. Probably being beautiful somewhere.

'How much for a go 'round the park mate?' He did not raise his head and began to go for his wallet, having miserably trotted up to a man and his carriage. A pall of silence seemed to descend upon the Holmes, generally so cheerful. Perhaps he was tired of looking at couples and families now, tired of denying himself he wanted to see her face again. A little grumble darkened his voice, realising now just how utterly alone he really was.

[thehessian]

[/i], and it wasn't long before such was the case. So much for quiet.

As his eyes traveled to the source, however, he found his graces only slightly better than he'd thought them. No large obnoxious family, no couple far too busy practically eating each others faces to notice the 'tour' all carriage drivers were required to give of surrounding landmarks. It was but a lone person (Englishman, he dully noted at the reflection of accent) neither overzealous nor exceedingly curious of surroundings. At least it was a customer that was decent to start a day with, if one needed to be. If absolutely nothing else, it beat the possible others that could have been. Gloved hand dropping from the creature's neck, he took a step back and then one toward the inquiring man.

"Thirty-four for the standard mile per carriage. Further...is negotiable." No it wasn't, going by the book. Going by what the book had to say, it was required to reserve in advance by calling for anything longer than that standard twenty-minute ride (but you shouldn't tell them how short it was supposed to be unless they asked, that was part of the catch they wove in), but the business couldn't object. Not if the day was slow and someone was willing to pay. That was what it was all really about anyway, of course, as getting a booklet from the nearby visitor's center could tell you all the landmarks pointed out and more. The business was a glorified tourist trap, one that didn't need anything fancy to lure them in, as was being evidenced.

Cheap promises, a distraction from the ordinary, it could be considered whatever the customers wanted as long as they had money, as far as the drivers were to be concerned unless for whatever ungodly reason they came back more than once. Thankfully, or, at least to Heinrich it was something to be thankful for, it was quite an infrequent occurrence to behold, meaning it didn't have to be personal regardless of what was said. Best of both worlds, really. [/ul]

[philosopher]

Was it that lone? Was it that dejected awareness that drew that long, sighing breath, as of a soul in pain; blindly, and breathing still heavily and slow? Just how could it; Holmes was an expert at dealing with isolation. In fact, he drew to it from time to time for solace. He had stood in his dark corner, and had seen all, heard all; and it was a wild and a miserable man that crept down the narrow stairway just hours before and out into the fresh city air. He did not know where he was going. He wandered on and on, hearing always that sound in his ears, the soft, sweet tones of accursed uttering lovers that was wiling his own, his beloved. But he couldn't call her that. Sherlock Holmes did not fall in love.

'Thirty-four?' He echoed, and lifted his head. Not resisting the urge to take a hard look at the chap. The face alone he could not decide between spare or cynical. Voice too, what power there was in that restive voice? He had never rightly heard it before, but he supposed the man was the very type of profesional at his best. Holmes flitted his fingers through the folds of his wallet, and took out an infrequent few notes. Did he really need a mile round? Eh, he didn't care. He didn't know where he was going, and he just wanted to keep moving - and if he trudged around any longer he would wear a hole in his shoes - and he liked his red converse.

'Thirty-five there, keep the surplus.' Holmes held the slightly crinkled wealth out to the man and would wait for him to take it, normally he would have used a fine rolling voice with an accent that stood out but this time around it fell flat, indolent. He wasn't altogether pleased, though he understood. He wanted her constant companionship and interest in his own work. Irene; Irene. He kept saying her name over and over to himself, in a passion of reproach. But would Holmes deny silently pining for a woman, the very thing he swore off the the sake of his stable, stationary mind? Double-definitely.

[thehessian]

[/i] to go for it. Then it should probably be considered his loss, though it wasn't as though Heinrich would mind it. Reaching out and taking the money from the smaller-built man with a curt nod, he gestured back to the open-door carriage as an indication to get settled and pocketed the currency given to be more properly dealt with at once all was settled. Under normal circumstances, some waited until the passengers had left, though, not as if this man of all people was going to watch to steal as it were.

He seemed far too...unassuming, even polished (although that was the likelihood of the very nature of an English accent to American-born ears) in his own odd right. If nothing else, he didn't look in the particular desperate spirits that were seen time and time again in this city to be trying of such an act. No, if anything, he seemed preoccupied; worn by matters the coachman neither understood nor could honestly bring himself to care to. He could just only hope that it wasn't to be a topic this man would end up insisting on discussing for the mile's ride. Heinrich would prefer the excited, screeching children to that.

Turning on his heel, he proceeded to walk back to the vehicle, hoisting himself into his own seat on the carriage with practiced ease and chancing a brief glance over to ensure that the customer was getting in without issues. It wasn't as though it had some complicated mechanism to it - there were steps and no door to fight against - but one could be quite surprised sometimes, as these things did arise in the most unfortunately unexpected of places.

"I take it you've not been here long?" Idle chatter. Oh how he had a distaste for it - were it not for the cover, Heinrich might've quit his job quite a time ago. No, though, that simply wouldn't do; just suck it up and feign the pleasantries, no one had to think any differently about it. He collected the reins as he spoke, and the horse shifted herself from a position of relaxation to that of alertness to command, considerably sensitive to these movements from sheer force of habit. [/ul]

[philosopher]

Holmes was a man of strong mind, one of those marked in advance to play the part against eternal dupes. Having money, he found many passing friends. Having once tasted the cup of facile pleasures, he rebelled readily to its intoxication. He had been a fool in London, letting amusements absorb his time, to the utter detriment of his business. Brilliant as his working mind was, he frivolously believed work and pleasure were the same thing just because he had a passionate relationship with the two lovers, and so found he had a poor ability to balance them, and when devoted to one the other took a back seat for long periods of time. Sometimes weeks. And, eventually he spent a large portion of his fortune, when he fell into the hands of a friend who had taken Holmes under his own roof and helped like with the aspect of an angel of mercy but too with the discipline of an infantry. When they arrived to the city, they decided to live modestly and avoid audacious spending. So Holmes had learnt to dote on the simpler pleasures, like thirty-four dollar carriage jaunts.

With the admirable instinct of an egotist, Holmes thought he understood so well what passed in his own mind. He let go of the money and dared not complain too much of what the little fellow was costing. He made up his mind and, instead of staring at his shoes and lamenting some more: he lifted his long leg and hoisted himself into the passenger's seat. He sidelong glanced out of the space of the coach, seeing only briefly a father playing with his handful of energetic - or as Holmes like to call them, loud - children. He muttered under his mordant breath, 'God bless large families.'

But he had suffered so much. The livid paleness of his complexion, the rigid fold of his lips, that revealed a whole existence of bitter deceptions, of exhausting struggles, and of proudly concealed humiliations. And yet every thing seemed to smile upon him at the outset of life. Well, most things. When he was in the right disposition to appreciate them. Did he have scarcely any means outside his profession? Did he care?

He replied to the driver with instinctive humour. Now, at least, something free Holmes enjoyed in this world was small talk. 'Long enough not to be a stranger, but foreign enough to have blanket immunity from referring to my sergeant at arms as dude.'

Reserving himself, which was a rare but calm thing, he looked away like he were enjoying the views he had seen fifty times over. 'Far-flung transfers, they're funny that way.'

[IRENE ADLER]

Irene noticed the young man who went up to the carriage, his features and messy hair where quite distinguished for a man such as he and she could not help but smile. How long had it been since she, and him had a talk , or seen one another. Yet here he was , her long lost lover, and friend. Would he mind if she just came up to him, or would he push her away as usual as he did. He had success in the city, for what her job told her about him , jewel thiefs being caught, precious eirlooms recovered, diamonds given back to their owners, the list could go on and on but she also had the upper hand on the way his mind worked. He could actually not stop her, so it did not hurt to just walk over there and say hello. Maybe he would be excited to see her, he looked gloomy today despite the weather , this was a thing she would never have seen in the sherlock from england. He was always happy, cheerfull, sometimes even jumping off the walls over excitment. What was on his mind that was troubling him, was it her, some sort of pet he was keeping, or was it to do with a case that he could not complete.

Closing the newspaper, she had stopped reading it for a bit and stood up. Starting to walk over towards the carriage a smile never left her face as she was excited, and had suddenly gotten butterflies from just being so near him. But would he forgive her about the past , she still loved him ever so much and she did not want anything to come between them that she would hate him and he her. Yet why did she think that it could be a possinbility, was she imagining that Holmes would take her in his arms, was she imagining that he would kiss her right on the spot, that could never be an image that would ever happen sadly. Anyways she had to be on her best behavior ,so that she and him could get along just fine only if she was on her best behavior. Her best behavior could actually not be possible due to her nature, she loved to be a flirt and scare him off , worry about her , and also she loved to be tricky, decetful, and the occasional touch here and there she liked to use.

She did not want to scare him away , but im sure he must have known what she was doing around New york as well. Her relationship with a mafia lord could make him well ,compromised in a way but what the heck she could not loose anything, and besides she and Archie had their time of a good relationship and now that was over and she had nothing to look back.

Stopping in front of the carriage, she looked back and from side to side to see if she was being followed. Glad that she was not, she climbed on and grabbed sherlocks hand as she smiled , and leaned down to peck his cheek, "Hello sherlock , it has been to long , how have you been love ? " she asked, and pulled away brushing her hair to her back. She was really trying her best to be formal and loving, but she could always turn ugly if she was asked why was she here. She hated it when she was asked questions by him , it kind of invanded her personal life a bit. He was actually quite handme today, but when was he not. What would his reaction be to her right now, she had changed a lot from that time till now her long curly hair had been ironed and flatten out , her face was now filled with dark tones of makeup, and she had also aged a bit.

[philosopher]

The dark side of the most brilliant lives had no mysteries for him. He had received the strangest confidences: he had listened to the most astounding confessions. He knew how low humanity could stoop, and what aberrations there were in brains apparently the soundest. The work woman whom her husband beats, and the great lady whom her husband cheats, had both come to him. He had been sent for by the city whose people, they told him, were being deceived. To his office, as to a lay confessional, all passions fatally lead. In his presence now though, all was calm. Holmes felt like he were the one being deceived.

A London commissionary, who after years of practice could retain an illusion, believe in something, or be astonished at any thing in the world, would be but a fool. If he was still capable of some amazement, his time would not be wasted. Whilst he was discussing this with himself, a smooth voice, and stroke of the hand, asked his attention. He had not even noticed anyone climb into the carriage with him. It was solely owing to himself that he tensed and waited, before requiring a small glance of his furrowed but clear eyes, and without a shadow of hesitation drew his hand back rapidly like she were trying to bite him, and even if she had that would have been within his expectations. Still no answer as she pressed quickly his cheek, continuing on in a silent, shocking place.

'I- Irene?' He exclaimed, squinting at her. 'What?'

Irene Adler - had she leapt suddenly from his thoughts? Unwillingly Holmes searched the drawers of his mind for her last memory, and found only relic feelings of ruin, overwhelming pain that billed back some years. To have been thinking of her and have her appear so suddenly, stupedied him with astonishment. It was hard to admit the evidence, she was here. Sitting next to him.

Holmes edged away from her a little, into the wall of the carriage. Not as open as she was feeling. 'I don't understand. You can't be here. I'm here, you're in London!'

But how could any one imagine the methodic detective carried away by one of those insane passions which knew no reason? Ruined by love, perhaps, but by this woman. Could any one picture her, so homely and shadowed here - and still so beautiful. Rue Irene Adler, at the will of another establishment, and leading elsewhere in one of the brilliant quarters of London, a reckless life, such as strike terror in the bosom of pleasant places. Like carriages.

[thehessian]

Mutely a nod was the response to the thinner man's attempt at humour, a light smile of would-be amusement offered to reinforce the façade. It really was the best advice to give to fool a weak mind (and who wasn't, in Heinrich's mind); smile and nod. If it didn't silence them, it duped them. At least, it did if it was convincing enough, and if it wasn't, well, then they were asking for what it was they got. Running briefly a gloved thumb over the held rein, he started and then abruptly stopped to usher the horse along as a woman suddenly appeared.

"Sie zahlen mir nicht genug..." They don't pay me enough for this.. Quietly was the disgruntled murmur as the figure stepped out in front of the carriage. Very briefly, he considered having her move anyway; the woman would either jump or be trampled, it wasn't as though the wreath of flowers on a tree in this park would be the first one. Far from it, really; they were scattered all about the places where decapitated bodies had been recovered, small memorials as reminders and warnings. If only they realized how poorly they worked.

She clambered aboard, and his hands dropped with the reins as he turned to give her a scrutinizing look. As if some nobody could just walk up and.. Before so, however, the passenger made a recognition that made Heinrich raise an eyebrow. Alright, so not a stranger. Not to the man, anyway, that much was obvious. Turning his body to the side to see more properly this newcomer, he was mildly surprised to notice the woman was actually reasonably attractive, and...apparently quite friendly with this man. Either that, or their greetings in England were both very affectionate and returned by shock and shirty comments. As possible it could have been, the coachman was going to go with the first.

"I take it your...friend is also planning on coming along." Careful not to overstep suspicious boundaries. Considering the fact that it was the man - Sherlock, did she say? What odd names.. - who had paid in the first place, it was her call to leave her there or not. That would, in turn, depend on if his pallid expression was one of pleasant surprise or..not so much. Once again, he could draw an easy conclusion of 'not', but that wasn't his place to currently decide.

[IRENE ADLER]

She noticed that it took him a while to recognize her, he was in a very dreamy state until he had turned around and had noticed. He had surprised him by her sudden apperance , was he not happy to see her at least for a bit before her next job. Yes she had caught his attention, and in a most interesting way, she had not seen that expression on his face in a long time as well, all in all she loved it and had wondered why she had not caught his attention like this . Would archy mind terribly if she was with this bloke, they had a small tiny relationship but that was just a small face compared to what she had with the man in front of her.

Irene saw him suddenly back away from her, was she suddenly that scary to the great sherlock holmes. Yes they had their ups , and downs , but this little triffle of a meeting did not mean that he had to be scared of her. Frowning she crossed her arms and started to open her bag as she took out a ciggarett and placed it on her mouth, she did not smoke really but she knew that it was one thing that maybe could calm him down a little form the sudden shock. From their encounter and besides had he not suddenly ran away from her the last time that they had talked, or was it the other way around.

Seeing him ask her why she was here and not in london, she could only start to laugh as she just cracked up a little snort as well. Taking a puff of her ciggaret , she stopped laughing and noticed the coach man had noticed her enter as she grinned and waved at the man. She saw Sherlock look at her very oddly all of a sudden , almost in shock had she caused that much of an impression on him , she hoped so, she would be very dissapointed if she did not. She was just wanting to say hello, but she guessed a hello was still a little bit odd. "English mafia goes around places sherlock they just positioned me here. " she told him flat out about what she was doing here ,as she noticed the driver still staring at her a thing she really did not like.

" go on "she told the coach man ,and beckoned him to lead on the horses as things where in need of being moved. The silence that was between she and her love was getting a little bit uncofortable, she hoped the coach ride would make them at least settle down to one another like old times sake. She hated the expression on his face at the moment , did she really need to explain any other information. " Yes sherlock I work for the english mafia " she told him without even hearing him ask her about it at all, she just had no problem of letting little details like that roll off the tongue.

[philosopher]

This was the man who happened to come into the street on some errand, and decided on the softly weathered day to be lifted by a walk through the park, telling himself to begin with how good it was that he had come this way. Right now, what he was telling himself conflicted between two things, get the hell out of there before she threw him under the carriage or indulge her company, something he had been silently pining for since arriving in New York. Irene Adler was the whole chaotic caboodle. She was like the windstorm ripping through some unfortunate place - not to be bullied, not to be reasoned with. Just bringing everything she came across to its' very knees.

Holmes looked briefly around, from some paranoid impulse, and returned forward when the driver asked his attention. He hesitated, conflicted again. Squirming uncomfortably, he looked sidelong at Irene from south to north - just to assure himself that he couldn't see any boom-boom dynamite sticks tucked into her pockets or any more dangerous playthings. In a way, he felt badly for having to reserve himself so highly. She hadn't been all that bad. In the daytime when Irene was with him it hadn't been bad at all - and she was a knock-out beauty to boot, but at night the fear and uncertainty crowded to the fore and blanked out everything else. She would vanish, and return with either blood or rubble dust on her clothes. Then she ran. It was then he prayed for the courage to shoo her out of the carriage, and despised the weakness that made him draw back from the thought. If only he could stop thinking. Make his mind a blank. Even hoped the driver might cop her out. But how long ago was it when he'd first realized that hope was an illusion, a false god that smiled and lied, and held out vain promises only to prolong the torture?

He eventually answered the driver with a small consenting mumble from the throat, turning his head away from Irene to look out of the coach window and let his arm lie straight on the carriage door's interior appendage. He stared moodily out at the world, every now and then running his fingers through his briery brown hair - which left his fingers a little gummed every time he did it thanks to that hair wax he liked to use. In the silence that followed as she mentioned her little crime syndicate. He groaned loudly the moment she mentioned it. Ho ho, he knew. He bloody knew.

'Yes yes, I know about your little gangdom. Unfortunately.' Holmes lowered his voice to something quiet, looking at her again. Oh, those smokey eyes on her fresh white skin. He stole quickly a glance at the driver, deciding he wasn't listening or couldn't hear him. When he spoke to her again, it was more discreet. Bending his head slightly in. 'It's been peaceful around here, no shootings. No fires. You must be off to a slow start, Irene.'

[IRENE ADLER]

The silence between them was becoming unberable to her mind ,she needed words to be exchanged, thoughts on one anothers lives, but he stayed quiet. What was he thinking about , could it be her at all , about how she had left him and the outcome of why she had left. She could still feel the cold london water all around her and how she had managed to escape. That little previw of death was beyond her imagination , she worked solo at that moment because of that, now she had Archy. Working solo had caused her a fear of being alone , she was sure that he must not have known that because if he did he would have showed just a little bit more kindness to her, but hey it was not her fault that she had left, she was just protecting him.

She had noticed quiet causally how she displeased him as well ,she knew that they had a bad time before. But where their days not very joyous, from what she remembered they where very caring of one another. Hearing him say about how he knew that she was in the mafia made her roll her eyes, if he knew that much she was sure that he would not try to stop her on her next little job. "Yes well you seem most displeased to see me, when I ran I was caught and punished for being with you and I failed a job so you must be glad to see that I had received my due punishment " she told him and looked out the window of the carriage , suddenly very anoyed at him.

Why did he have to be such a hard bugger, had she not been good to him and had reserved him from suffering worse than what she had suffered. Hearing him say how she had not caused much damage made her sigh and roll her eyes once again. " Yes well , my boss does not want me to cause much damage I work now underground " she bitterly told him and threw the ciggaret out the window, angry at him now she got out a cell phone and started to look for a phone number, why did he have to be so composed, could he not just have a little heart for her again after all that had happened. Giving up on finding the number, she closed her cell phone and pulled her hair out of her face and took out a small sharp knife and threw it out the window. Picking at her hair, she noticed the sharp point of another knife and got it out and threw it out the window.

Was this the only way that she and holmes could get to talk to one another, she still loved him dearly but she would not show those emotions not in front of him, she could not muster the strenghth to do so. She had also known about his departure to the states since a while ago and yes she had stayed in london only for a brief while until Archy offered her this opportunity. Thus she was here and was most glad for it ,she had tried to find him but it seemed a hopless task. The look that he had right now was most uncofortable ,she just wanted to talk " I see you are displeased. " she told him and sighed hidding her face with her hair a little.

Her days in new york had actually been quite calm, now that she was thinking about it. There where a few jobs when she first arrived, but today she was just looking around the park to the art museum. Looking for an exit for the job that she was going to do , but then she had seen him and she could not really say no to surprise him. So here she was with him, now in the carriage after she saw him enter it. Thinking back on what he had said about her being quiet, if he wanted her to start a ruckus she could just for his pleasure , if he wanted trouble then she must comply in a way . oh he could get her started , her mind was buzzing with a million ideas, all at the same time. Now she could really not control herself, a grin spreading on her lips silently as she would show him what real chaos meant.

[philosopher]

A closer look at Irene would have revealed the error of a quick classification. He gripped the door pane too tightly, and his frowning eyes darted restlessly from side to side, as though searching, searching; yet dreading to find the object of that search. His expressive face contorted in a confused tic each time his eyes swept by her lovely face. He glanced dispiritedly out the window at the perpetually cloudy sky and idly thought before facing her again, loosening his collar and clearing his throat. Taking everything she said slowly. 'Punished? Why would I be happy about that?'

Holmes said it with some disgust, but he supposed he had meant to say it quite softly. Irene might have been a she-devil and the root cause of a good deal of his unhappiness when she left - but albeit to think of her being beaten or subject to penalty in any way was like an unpleasant rush of blood to the head. A shudder ran through him and he lowered his eyes quickly. But in no time at all returned to the woman continually, as though drawn there against their will. Sit still, he told himself. She was hiding her face from him behind her sleek hair, irritated with his manner. What was she expecting, kisses and cuddles? Their first meeting in who knows how long wasn't exactly radiating happiness and contentment, and he may have been stubbornly defending himself from her - but he didn't hate her. He couldn't hate her. He had tried to, but it just never worked. So many times he had thought about her. A thousand times, a word, an endearing term, sprang to his lips, and each time the fear clamped his tongue in a vise of steel. A thousand times he wanted to touch her, feel the silkiness of her hair, the warmth of her lips, but each time the fear and uncertainty stood between them like twin specters of doom, pointing and saying, You fool, she is gone.

'Actually, Irene .. ' He leaned in again, as though muttering a secret. ' .. I was just thinking about you.'

Not another word, Holmes. Before he could utter another thing - of how he had missed her, how he had never truly loved anyone else, how he was slowly spiralling to his doom without her - he repaired himself and leant away, back into his seat. As though the words were catalysts, the terrible fear overwhelmed him, drowning out every other thought, and he knew he had to leave that trail behind. When he had no means of leaving the carriage he could partially close off his dread and wait resignedly. Holmes changed his soft, quiet tone - folding his arms and lowering his brow at Irene, fronting moody displeasure. She couldn't break him, not again.

' .. But I should be displeased, as you put it.' He thought his voice would sharpen to blade-point inquisitive. And it did at first, but it slowly died. His tone fell into a stroke of calm, and even hurt. Holmes hesitated for a moment, then squaring his shoulders sat straight, looking at her with such concentration. 'It's been a long time, Irene. You just .. clear off, one day, and the only time I hear of you is when I read about your latest fiascos in the newspapers.'

Shaking his head pityingly, he sighed. 'I need a cigarette.'

[IRENE ADLER]

Irene straightened her back when she felt a little bit better about being here with holmes, when she heard him say that why would he want something like that for her meaning the torture. She half smiled and then sighed, yet it still happened ,she could remembered still the freezing water, how it pierced her skin, the cuffs that she had on her wrist , the memory just sent shivers down her spine and made her suddenly nibble her lower lip. "Well there was nothing you could have stopped it, it happened and it was the most horriblest experience in my life" she told him and streached out her fingers relaxing them because she had tensed them.

Nothing could have stopped the pain she felt that night, not even him but some confort to her was that she knew that he was safe, yes it had been a long time that they had seen each other but did that really matter.

Seeing him near her and whisper to her that he had thought about her made her eyes go wide and turn around to see him as she just could stare at him, him in his corner with his arms crossed over like a child.

Nothing more was said by him, so he still cared for her , still had those same feelings , those same emotions that she had deep in her heart for him, this was unxepected she thought.

Yes she had those feelings , they could never be forgotten no matter how much she tried , how much she tried to distance herself from him, he still owned her heart and she hoped that he knew that at all cost.

But still he had tempted her and once her strings where pulled just a little bit nothing could change her mind about what she would do next. What would be fitting for him to see , explode a building , hijack a ship filled with precious weapons that she could use at her own will, or she could just stalk him till he grew tired or she could just hack into his bank account , she would show him what he had missed when he left england.

But for now she would stay a little good girl, " I missed you to , and I was actually thinking about you back in england "she told him not liking one bit that she was having a soft spot for the man again , yet she could not really help it, he just had that effect on her.

It was the one that could make her mush into a puddle of emotions, nearing him closer she grabbed his hand and hold it not saying anything. She was wondering what was going on in his head at the moment she hold his hand, she hoped it would be something good she did not want to back away now, yet she felt the need to.

Deciding that she should release him, she let go his hand and pulled away, before she felt something touch her and she just stopped and felt her hair cover her face once again.

Please, please holmes what are you doing she thought,she wanted to really suddenly get away but she could not, it was like her body was paralized and everything that her mind had thought dissapeared. She could not think of anything but what was he up to did he expect her to just fall on her feet, if he continued she would. Then her shell that she had created when she had left him would fall apart and nothing could stop her from kissing his lips.

[philosopher]

Holmes wasn't sure what he wanted of Irene. Not that he was in any way trying to be unkind to her - he dared not, as yet; but he had revealed himself enough to enable himself to judge her. He was one of those formidably selfish men who wither every thing that wrongs him, like those trees within the shadow of which nothing can grow. His determination to not let Irene crack his heart even before it had finished repairing concealed a stupid obstinacy; his mildness, an iron will.

His face sprang into focus and locked onto her. She might have been beautiful still, of that autumnal beauty whose maturity has the splendors of the luscious fruits of the later season. 'It isn't safe for you here, Irene.' He explained. 'I don't know if you've ever looked back on it, but I happened to be a detective. You're a crook - and you're face is getting very popular down at the nick.'

For the woman had one passion - money. Under her placid countenance revolved thoughts of the most burning covetousness. She wished to be rich. Now, as Holmes had no illusion whatever to seize her upon his own merit, he wanted only to save her. He knew himself to be perfectly incapable of any of those daring conceptions which lead to rapid fortune in his wise enterprising, he conceived but not to achieve wealth, that is, to save, to economize, to stint himself, to pile penny upon penny. His profession of policery had furnished him with a number of instances of the financial power of the penny daily saved, and kept far away from wide spending.

Then again, that mob family of hers obviously gave her those instances of risk and peril, what was a little bit of being seen with her detective ex-boyfriend?

Irene touched his hand, then fell away. He looked down at that hand that rested on his knee, and his animated brown eye lifted back to her. For him it was a mere bagatelle. He conceived nothing beyond. 'What is it you want with me, Irene? Why are you here?'