Holmes: The Kismet Trail

Chapter Twelve

I could doubt it no longer. Not to myself. Aloud, I could make an excuse for every part of my emotions. But not when it came to Rose. My thoughts on Irene had vanished into a state of limbo-only existing in memory or a suddenly upheaval of the past but never lingering long. The feeling of Rose admiring me made me anxious, and my returned feelings even worse. How could she have such a hold on me? Why would I let her? I began to understand to understand as I analyzed it. Not pushing away the memory this time...I loved her. Not because of her beauty or her writing. Because of her personality. The way she captures me when I stand, when I'm focused, when I am angry even. She does not make me doubt her but I feel I should. Not a detective instinct, a personal one. To keep her far from me. As truth would have it, I have only loved one woman and she was taken from me. I denied my feelings for her because of her own safety. But I could not allow her to know this, or for anyone to. They would not understand and it would then become a conflict of interest...

Just as I finished my book for the day and my mind weaned away from her, I got a knock on my door. Opening it, I found her standing there with a smile upon her face. It was as if we spoke with our eyes as she stood there before Watson opened up the door further and gave her a nice but not overly nice smirk. A polite one, similar to the one you give to someone you wish you did not have to talk to.

"I wanted to give you this." She said as she gave me my hat. I brushed it off before finding my pipe and Watson's glasses in the middle.

"Thank you." I said before she nodded.

Just as Watson leaned against the wall, he rose up. "I'm going to spend the afternoon with my wife. I will be back after dinner."

"Goodnight Sir Watson." She said politely before Watson left. I was unsure how he could sense the desire I had to be alone with Rose. I wanted to desperately to tell her how I felt, now since I knew...The feeling was driving me insane. I had never felt such a way before.

"I should go also. It is getting quite late."

"It is hardly noon..." She lingered where she stood before turning back to me.

"I should go. I feel odd."

"Odd? As if you are ill?"

"No. I feel odd standing here wanting to talk but unsure what to say..."

"A writer unsure what to say?"

"I mean...I want to say so much. For the start, I am so dreadfully sorry. For everything that has happened. For not coming back to you and telling you that I was alright."

"What happened, after they took you?"

"I cannot remember much. I recall being separated from you. And to be honest, they told me they would kill you if I tried to reach out for you. It is the main reason I stayed away."

"Did anybody say anything else? Anything at all?"

She hesitated as I could see that she was genuinely thinking. Her head began to nod.

"They explained how there were three. Moriarty, the main...creepy man...He continued to say that there were three." She mimicked his voice by making hers deeper. "I'll meet with the other two later." She then brought her voice back to normal. "It all ended about two days ago...he said there would only be one other to worry about-I assumed it was you..."

"Do you have any idea who the other men were?"

She shook her head.

"What made you think it was me then?"

"He had this journal. He showed me it and it was actually terrifying. A shrine to you. All your cases sew into each page with detail and notes on each one. He had photographs of you that scared me as well. Ones of you standing in your window-of Watson too...His family."

Suddenly, it all connected! How thankful I was for her at this moment. I grabbed her in an irrational moment and pulled her to me before I kissed her hard. I had not thought about the consequences, I did what I wanted. I then pulled away from her and turned toward the window.

"Please accept my apologies. I did not mean for my ecstatic moment to carry out like that..." I heard nothing behind me before fearing I scarred the poor girl. "Please Rose-" I felt a hand on my shoulder before I turned. She placed a hand on my cheek before pulling my face closer to hers. For the first time in a very long time, having another person's touch was not awful. I did not cringe or twitch, I welcomed it. Something I was not used to...My hands seemed to know their place on her body as one palm rested behind her head, holding her head and position it as the other was on her back, pulling her against me. My body morphed before I could stop it as her breath grew quick with mine. Her hands pulled at my suit before I had her leaned against the wall. She moved my lips to her neck in which I lost myself. My hands moved to the back of her as I lifted her legs around me and refused to release her, even as she spoke that my holdings were too strong on her. I held her one hand on the wall that was quickly followed by the other one. I took great pleasure in hearing her groaning before my mind flashed back to the case. I pulled myself from her as she slid down against the wall and landed back at her feet. I cleared my throat before she went off to bed as if nothing had happened.

"Goodnight Mister Holmes." She said as she blushed and shut the door. I let out a long breath before saying it once more. I rested my palms against the chair facing the fireplace. My mind placed Rose and I similar to the flames. Passionate and roaring, unable to fight the ways of our nature. But why her? Why not the prostitutes that offer? Why not the intellectuals I encountered before? Rose Porter...A name that was once connected to a stranger...now became my every thought...