Sentiment

Chapter 18 | Deception At Its Finest

"Caring is not an advantage, … Sherlock. All hearts are broken. All lives end."

The detective's fingers distractedly plucked at the strings of his violin, playing no particular tune, as he sat by the fire place. His brother's comment four years back kept echoing over and over in his head, but Sherlock couldn't figure out why.

When his brother had said it to him, he hadn't payed much attention to the chosen words at all. He hadn't believed the words could be meant for him. Still, they chose this moment to return and haunt him like a ghost from his past. The words seemed to grow stronger and louder, too, as they echoed in the deep recesses of his solitary mind. For some reason, the echoes paradoxaly were his only companion while amplifying his loneliness.

All hearts couldn't be broken. His heart couldn't… could it?

Suddenly, a different noise interrupted the haunting echoing inside his head. It was the sound of the creaking stairs once more.

"I thought I made it clear last time," Sherlock's voice was sharp and dark, seeming to blend with the shadows in the living room.

The woman stopped at the top of the stairs and gazed at the detective seated in his armchair in the poorly lit room.

His posture was stiff and his eyes relentless. Had Irene doubted before, she needn't had worried as she saw it written in the man's pale, blue eyes now. For the first time, she realized Moriarty could have been correct in his assumptions. She could do this. She could break him. The thought frightened her to no end, but still she knew she had no other choice.

"You're not welcome here," the man's deep voice floated over to her.

Irene inhaled, letting her lungs fill with the misbehaving air she needed to complete this task. She had always been a great actress, still she had to be an even better one to fool the master of deduction that sat before her. As she stepped forward, a devilish smirk grazed her lips. "I've come to set the record straight, my dear."

"I don't want-" the man began but the woman was faster and interrupted him.

"You thought you won, but you never did," the woman began and the seductiveness in her eyes glowed strong in the shadows.

For a minute, the man merely glared up at her. When he spoke, his voice was more of a growl than simple words, "I disagree."

"Oh, I know you do, you poor man. You thought you beat me at my own game, because of sentiment," Irene said and laughed in mockery of the man before her. "But it wasn't the end back then. It was barely the beginning."

Sherlock frowned up at her and awaited her explanation as he tried to keep up his cool facade.

The woman swiftly continued as she walked closer towards him. She felt like a lioness circling her pray. She didn't need to say it, they both knew she had the upper hand this time.

"You took away everything from me. My life, my future… Everything. You drove me into constant darkness. You think sentiment survives or can ever be revived after that? You thought any of this – any of these past months of bliss – could be real?"

Sherlock was silent for a long time as his eyes searched hers, hoping to see a glimpse of her protected soul. Whatever he saw, made him frown in the end as he discarded the violin on the floor and stood from his seat. "It's all been a game…"

"I told you it would be," the fair woman shrugged her eyebrows and gazed up at the tall man.

Though she was smaller in size, she knew she was no smaller in mind. All she had to do was hold her course now, and all would be sealed. The sooner, the better, she knew, because she could already feel her heart ache in ways it never had before. As soon as she was done here, she could leave it all behind her. Or at least try to.