Adler-Holmes

When The Day Met The Night

5:30 am. I hadn't slept for more than an hour, constantly haunted by Jim's face. I stood up, pulling on my trousers and picking up a bag from under my dad's bed. I placed my shirt from yesterday in it, as well as one of my dad's jumpers. I slipped into the bathroom, quietly untangling my hair and gargling some mouthwash. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I'm down the street. Be quick.

-Jim

I sighed, trying to breathe slowly to calm my nerves. My dad was sleeping on the sofa and John was in his room, so I had to be silent as I left. The door opened quietly, aiding my escape. I tiptoed out of the flat, the bag hanging over my shoulder. I took one last look back at my dad before hurrying down the stairs and out onto Baker Street.

I'm outside. Where are you?

-Lott

Jim appeared in front of me.

"Hello."

"Hi," I replied curtly.

"Let's go." He held out his arm, which I took more out of obligation than choice.

"Where are we going?" Jim led me down Baker Street, before heading to the tube.

"We're going somewhere the Holmes boys can't find us."

"I thought we were going back to Irene's?"

"We're making a stop there, but only so you can pack some clothes." We stood by the train platform, listening as a train approached. My phone buzzed.

Where are you going?

-Mycroft

Jim peered over my shoulder.

"Ignore that." I looked up at him, staring into his chilling eyes. Another buzz.

Charlotte. Where are you going? You know I can stop that train.

-Mycroft

"Jim... He will... And you know it... He doesn't text if he can talk so he's obviously busy but..."

"Tell him you're going to get some clothes then." I nodded, looking back down at my phone and sending a reply. The train stopped in front of us.

"Time to go, Miss Adler-Holmes," Jim's voice echoed, almost singsong. He held out his hand, which I took. If cold hands warm heart, maybe warm hands meant a cold heart. How fitting.

"My my, Lott. Aren't your hands cold? Shall I warm them for you?" He whispered as we stepped onto the train. There was no-one else here. He smiled gently, the kindest I had seen him for a long time, and gently rubbed his hands over mine, trying to share the heat. He motioned to sit on a row of chairs and joined me once I'd complied.

"Now, be quick when we get back to your mother's. They'll know where we're going." I nodded and Jim stood, looking at the stations on the wall. My phone buzzed again.

Why?

-SH

I swallowed, my eyes starting to tingle as tears formed in them. I went to reply, but Jim took his phone out of his pocket, making me watch him, wondering who he would be texting.

"Ah, look at that. Daddy Holmes has texted me." I continued watching him, too afraid to ask what he'd said, and too afraid to move. He met my gaze.

"Sentiment," He stated. I continued to watch him as he moved to stand in front of me, bending down so he whispered the next part into my ear.

"That will be his downfall," Jim straightened up, "And your mother's, though neither of you will believe that."

"What do you mean? I-I thought you just wanted to ruin Sherlock?" I stammered, hands shaking.

"I told him I'd burn the heart out of him. But no, I want more than just Sherlock. When any who could challenge me have gone, then I will be done."

"Where do I come into this?" He smirked, sitting next to me.

"All in good time, Lott. All in good time." The doors opened at another train station.

You need to forget about me.

-CA

I hurriedly typed back to my dad.

"Clever girl," Jim remarked.

What happened to the H? Lott, why aren't you signing off as you usually do?

-SH

"You know what to write, Lott," Jim eyed me, seeing if I had the guts to do what needed to be done. I held back more tears.

I'm not yours or hers. Forget about me, I've forgotten about you both.

-Charlotte

The response was again, almost immediate.

Lott, please. I can make sure you're safe. Tell me what's happening.

-SH

I bit my lip, pausing before replying.

Goodbye, Sherlock.

-Charlotte

I sobbed quietly, drawing my hands up to my face.

"Now, now, Lott. Come here," Jim pulled me into him, his body actually warm and somewhat comforting. I turned into him, his shirt muffling any sounds of me crying.

"I'm proud of you. Truly. This is how you become free." The train stopped and the doors opened.

"This is our stop. Come on." Jim led me out of the train as I wiped away tears. We made our way up the escalators and up the stairs, when I bumped into someone.

"Sorry," I mumbled an apology.

"Charlotte?" I turned quickly, realizing they'd recognized me.