by Liz de Jong (corellian_whiskey at hotmail.com)
Many hours later, Holmes awoke to the sound of Watson clanking as
lightly as he possibly could around the flat, going about his usual morning
preparations and about to embark on the requested trip to New Scotland Yard.
With a slight yawn he stirred himself, stood, and stretched; it was a
new day, and he had many things he wanted to do before Liz awakened. He cast
a quick glance to the couch where she slept, and felt fairly safe that he
still had a few hours of time left to complete his errands.
"Watson," Holmes intoned, slipping on his coat a little drowsily,
"hurry about the trip quickly, would you? I don't know exactly how long I
will be, but I would very much like someone to stay behind and keep an eye
on our guest."
Watson nodded, and headed off to his business for the morning. Holmes
followed him down the stairs to the street after a quick sip of tea, then
they both turned their separate ways, Watson taking the coachcraft and
Holmes proceeding on foot.
There is no doubt that Moriarty was behind that fire last night
, Holmes thought to himself, as he walked down the streets towards the
more business-oriented section of the city. A tiny ball of worry formed
itself in his gut, much to his surprise, as he thought that to himself. He
cast a glance back towards Baker Street.
I only hope she is all right, and that this will work out as
planned. He continued, walking into a little shop on a small sidestreet,
tipping his hat slightly to the lady for whom he held the door. She was far
from grateful, however; she stuck her nose up in the air and wandered off as
though she had just encountered the lowest of the low. Holmes smirked
This was hardly the type of shop he would have ever wandered into,
and still was not entirely sure what he was doing here. Mystical symbols and
bowls full of focusing crystals and other stones were everywhere, as were
snatches of silky cloths and shiny papers from every surface. Bookshelves
lined almost every wall. A smoky haze helped contribute to the mysterious
atmosphere, and Holmes quickly noted that the smell that hit him like a
heavy brick wall as he stepped inside, as well as the smoke, were due to the
incense burning everywhere.
He wandered about the murky little shop for only a few minutes before
finding what he had come for; the tarot section. He picked up a few books,
but they were of no real interest to him. He resisted the great urge to
stick his own nose into the air at the... logic behind all this nonsense.
Holmes had half a mind to just pick up the first thing he saw and get
out, feeling most stifled in a place full of people whom would totally
discount his knowledge of deductive reasoning in a second for the hands of
fate, but knew that this would definitely be only a one-time visit, and
managed to keep himself from bolting. He promised himself he would buy a
paper and a nice crossword puzzle once he left to make up for it.
He leaned closer to a highly decorated bookcase that was stacked with
something other than books; they were cards. Finally! he thought happily,
picking up a deck for further investigation. It was a very fine looking deck
of cards, as they were rich in very lovingly detailed illustrations, which
seemed to follow Greek mythology. This mildly piqued his interest, but he
did not investigate further, as his need for escape greatly overpowered his
sense of curiosity right about now.
Holmes quickly grabbed the cards, along with a swath of pleasant
looking sky-blue silk to cover them, and headed to the counter and cash
register, where a turbaned woman was standing. She smiled at him largely...
Holmes just handed her the deck in a rather stiff gesture, and made for his
The woman seemed to sense his discomfort, smiling even larger, and
quickly rang up the purchase, placing it all into a neat little black bag,
which Holmes then thrust into his coat. He delayed no longer, and was gone,
headed to the nearest news stand for a good old fashioned newspaper.
Liz awoke shortly after Holmes and Watson had left, feeling rested
and calm. Her thought continually slid back to the incident last night; she
could still hear the crackling of the fire and the song of the violin. But
somehow, Liz wasn't as sad as she thought she'd be... The image of Holmes
comforting her came back to mind again, and she suddenly remembered why.
She stood, and neatly folded up the blankets she had used that night,
placing them in a careful pile on one of the couch cushions, to be put away
A teapot stood on the nearby table, along with a clean empty cup. Liz
sat down and poured herself some, gulping the still hot tea down greatfully,
then pouring herself another cup, just holding it for warmth this time. It
was then that she noticed the note on the table.
'Dear Liz,' it read,
My apologies for not being here when you awoke, but there were a few
errands I had to run. Should be back shortly. -
She smiled to herself as she finished the note, finding it slightly
funny, yet touching at the same time. She noted the 'Dear Liz' at the
beginning, and closed her eyes, sipping her tea around an even bigger smile.
Just as she was wondering what she would do to occupy herself untill
he returned, she heard the sounds of someone approaching the front door, and
turned to look. It made her wonder exactly what time it was, as she no
longer had her watch, and couldn't spot a clock anywhere. How long had she
Liz watched the doorknob turn, and stood to greet Holmes upon his
entry... and dropped her coffee cup with a shattering crash to the floor
when she saw who had dashed inside instead.
Professor Moriarty stood there in the doorway, a self-satisfied smirk
on his face as he let someone else in behind him, then closed the door. He
made a slight bow to Liz, who was frozen in place.
He looked exactly the same as he had way back then... when he had
been business partners with her father. He had the same air about his, as
well, which made Liz's skin crawl. Here was the man that had killed her
once.... was he here to do it again?
"Ah, Elizabeth. How very nice to see you again," he stated, with that
same horrible smile. He took a few steps further into the room, Liz taking a
few more steps backwards. "What, aren't you happy to see me?"
Liz continued backing up as he continued to advance on her, untill
her back bumped into the mantel of the fireplace. She was trapped. Her
panicky hands reached behind her back for anything she could find, anything
that would serve as a weapon. They closed around the handle of a brass
stoker, and she hefted it carefully out of sight, waiting for her moment to
"You did that to my house." Liz spat acidly, glaring at him though
eyes tearing with anger. "You killed my father... you killed me!" With that,
she let out an angry cry and dashed forwards, the poker high above her head.
Moriarty was expecting an angry retaliation, however, and casually
sidestepped out of her way, grabbing her wrist as it sliced through the air
where he was standing. Squeezing tightly, he forced her to drop the poker,
then spun her into a more firm grasp. "Tut, tut, my dear. Is that any way to
treat an old family friend?"
His ugly little henchman laughed, the sound grating on Liz's ears. He
watched them both intently, his beady eyes darting from one to the other.
Liz was almost sick, just looking at him.
"Come, my dear, we have much to talk about." Moriarty said casually,
as if they were old friends catching up on old times. He pushed her towards
the doorway. Sniffling, yet stubborn, Liz refused to move.
"Do not test my patience, Elizabeth... you will find me most
displeased." Making a gesture for assistance, Moriarty then, with the aid of
his ugly little companion, hoisted Liz up so that she could no longer
resist, and began carrying her down the stairs. She squirmed and made as
much noise as possible, but could not manage to break free.
"Feisty little one, no?" The homely henchman asked in a French
accent, snickering again. Moriarty only remained expressionless.
"Hurry up to the truck, Holmes will be back at any..." He trailed
off, catching sight of Holmes, who was only two blocks away on his return,
but had not yet spotted them, his face in the paper. They began to run
towards their hovertruck, but Liz had spotted him too, and let out as loud a
yell as she could.
His head snapped up from the paper he was reading and focused
immediately on the spectacle in the street before his flat. He threw down
the paper and reached into his coat, drawing the extendable cane he always
kept with him. His feet pelting heavily on the paved street, he struggled to
reach them in time, seeing them push Liz into the hovertruck, then leap in
themselves, taking to the air for a quick getaway.
Holmes stopped dead in his tracks, watching as the hovertruck
sideswiped a familiar coachcraft just as it was making it's landing run.
They missed each other narrowly, the hovertruck speeding off into the busy
flow of traffic overhead, the coachcraft settling gently on the curbside.
"Watson, after that hovertruck! Quickly!" Holmes shouted as he
bounded inside the coachcraft, buckling himself in for what he expected to
be a fast and furious ride. A rather confused Watson complied, expertly
accelerating to a closer distance of the hovertruck, with only a mild "I
say, Holmes!" in complaint.
The two vehicles chased each other in and out of traffic patterns for
almost an hour, untill a near miss with a skyscraper caused the hovertruck
to careen off its path, sparks flying around it. Watson had to initiate some
fancy flying to avoid a head-on collision with the spinning vehicle, forcing
him to turn away. The hovertruck recovered and sped off again before Holmes
could catch sight of it.
"Drat!" Watson exclaimed, dashing his fist upon the coachcraft's
console. "That blasted building came out of nowhere!"
Holmes, despite the feeling of a pit growing deeper inside his
stomach, remained calm. "There, Watson, on that ledge. Let me have a
closer look." Watson complied, piloting the vehicle as near to the
building as possible.
Holmes opened his door and leaned out, examining the ledge.
A black substance had splattered all over it where the hovertruck had
collided, causing, Holmes was happy to report, a unilube leak. He smiled to
himself, feeling great relief.
"You see, Watson?" he said, pointing out the blots of oil that
trailed after the truck. "All we have to do is follow the trail, and we will
find what we seek."
"Brilliant observation, Holmes," Watson said cheerily, adding a
rather sulky 'I could have told you that' under his robotic voice. Holmes
heard it; however, he only smiled. He was content... they were on their way
after the woman who, he could now admit to himself, he could not do without.
On to Part 6!
Back to Part 4.
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