Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Abominable Bride- Seven

Chapter Seven

Third POV

Holmes and Watson sit in their armchairs whilst Michelle graciously sits on Holmes's armrest, in a dress, begrudgingly. An elegantly dressed woman sits on a dining chair opposite them. "Mr Holmes, I have come here for advice."

"That is easily got."

"And help."

"Not always so easy."

"Something has happened, Mr Holmes something... Unusual and... Terrifying."

"Then you are in luck." Michelle firmly slaps his arm, whilst Lady Carmichael scoffs. "'Luck'?"

"Those are my specialisms." He smiles across at Watson. "This is really very promising."

"Holmes..." Watson warns. Holmes drops the smile and Michelle turns back to Lady Carmichael. "Please do tell us what has so distressed you." She states. "I thought long and hard as to what to do, but then, er, it occurred to me that my husband was an acquaintance of your brother and that, perhaps through him..." She trails off. Holmes tilts his head at her enquiringly. "The fact is, I'm not sure this comes within your purview, Mr Holmes."

"No?"

"Lord help me, I think it may be a matter for a priest." The boys share a gaze whilst Michelle crosses her legs. Lady Carmichael goes through her monologue of how disturbed her husband has shown to be and her feeling towards it. "Did you keep the envelope?" Michelle asked suddenly. "My husband destroyed it but it was blank. No name or address of any kind."

"Tell me: has Sir Eustace spent time in America?" Michelle asked further. The boys looked towards the two women. "No."

"Not even before your marriage?" Holmes noticed Michelle crinkle her nose slightly by saying 'marriage'. "Well, not to my knowledge."

"Pray continue with your fascinating narrative." Holmes steeples his hands in front of his mouth. "Well, that incident took place last Monday morning. It was two days later, on the Wednesday, that my husband first saw her."

"Who?"

"Emilia Ricoletti." Watson's eyes widen and he looks across to Holmes, who glances back at him before looking at Lady Carmichael. "And you saw nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Did your husband describe..."

"Nothing, until this morning." She then explains further the events that happened this morning. "Holmes?"

"Hush, Watson."

"You know the name."

"You must forgive Watson. He has an enthusiasm for stating the obvious which borders on mania." Michelle pointed out. Watson throws her a dark look and in return, Holmes throws him a dark look. "May I ask: how is your husband this morning?"

"He refuses to speak about the matter. Obviously I have urged him to leave the house."

"No, no! He must stay exactly where he is." Holmes spoke up.

"Well, you don't think he's in danger?"

"Oh no, somebody definitely wants to kill him, but that's good for us. You can't set a trap without bait." He smiles at her. Whilst she gasps. "My husband is not bait, Mr Holmes."

"No. But he could be if we play our cards right." Watson raises his eyebrows whilst Michelle silently agrees. "Now, listen: you must go home immediately. Doctor Watson, Michelle and I will follow on the next train. There's not a moment to lose. Sir Eustace is to die tonight."

"Holmes!" Watson scolds. "And we should... Probably avoid that."

"Definitely." Michelle agrees begrudgingly. "Definitely avoid that." Lady Carmichael looks rather confused, but nods.

The Diogenes Club

Mycroft Holmes is in The Stranger's Room. "Little brother has taken the case, of course. I now rely on you to keep an eye on things, but he must never suspect you of working for me. Are you clear on that, Watson?"

Mary Watson walks into view and smiles at his back. "You can rely on me, Mr Holmes."

"And Michelle too."

"Of course, sir. Although I sense a change between Sherlock and her."

"How so?" Mycroft begins to sit up a little. "It would seem to be Sherlock has sentiment as a virtue." She responded. Mycroft smiled a little. His brother is finally admitting to his logical self, that he's slipping in love with his childhood friend.

Train carriage

Holmes and Watson sit opposite each other in the window seats whilst Michelle takes to sit elegantly by Holmes's side of a single compartment. Holmes has his eyes closed, while Watson is looking out of the window. After a while he turns to his companions. "You don't suppose..."

"I don't, and neither should you."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"You were about to suggest there may be some supernatural agency involved in this matter, and I was about to laugh in your face." Michelle states not moving her eyes away from her book. "But the Bride! Emelia Ricoletti, again. A dead woman, walking the Earth!" Holmes sighs heavily and opens his eyes. "You amaze me, Watson."

"I do?"

"Since when have you had any kind of imagination?" Michelle laughs quietly. "Perhaps since I convinced the reading public that an unprincipled drug addict is some kind of gentleman hero." Michelle's gaze snaps to Watson. "Yes, now you come to mention it, that was quite impressive. You may, however, rest assured there are no ghosts in this world."

Watson eyes peer towards Michelle's direction. He looks to her fully and scoffs to himself. "What." Michelle states. "It's not 'what'. It's 'pardon'." Snapping her book shut, she looks to Watson. "'Pardon' would be used to excuse or rephrase. Your staring at my attire, therefore I have the right to be rude." Michelle spoke rapidly.

It was silent for a few moments before she huffed to herself. "What, Watson?"

"Your not wearing a corset." He looks to her lower legs before sighing to himself. "And your ankles are on show."

"I'm against corsets, they are morally incorrect and as for my ankles." She peers down thoughtfully. "Sod it." Watson shakes his head. "How do you expect to find a man to marry if your dress sense is atrocious and your speak with a sailors mouth." Holmes listened, whilst keeping his eyes closed. "That's my point." Michelle stated. "I'm sorry?"

"Why should a man expect me to dress accordingly and speak when spoken to? I am my own person, I've made it this far without the need to marry and my expectations of a man are high and they will not be lowered for no one. If no one can live by my expectations or respect my decisions then I won't be losing sleep about it. I simply move on." Holmes smiled to himself, admiring Michelle and her independence.

"So what do you expect to see from a man?" Watson asked. "I expect to be treated as his equal and certainly not act the way other couples do. Then again, marriage isn't exactly on my list."

"Why?" Watson presses on. "Because who would want me? I'm not exactly a tabloid to add in a newspaper." Michelle opens her book up again, ending the conversation completely.

Watson began to smile. Here, sat in front of him, was the perfect couple. A man who appreciated Lady Phillips ideas and thoughts. A man who, to Watson, would follow her to the end of the world and a woman. A woman who knew Sherlock better than anyone else. A woman that, to Watson, from time to time would blush tremendously when Sherlock complimented her, or blush when she knew Sherlock was admiring her from afar.

Here sat the perfect couple, but by far, the most ignorant couple too, by emotions.