Skulls and Cigarettes

Chapter Three

  "John, no."

  "Sherlock, yes."

  That's how it had gone on all evening. Sherlock had finished the current case and now the noble doctor was attempting to convince the stubborn recluse to pay a visit to Ms. Ericksson.

  "Why is it so important? The father was having a secret affair. He left them. There, case solved." Sherlock walked to the sofa and plopped face-down. John sat in his chair, gob smacked.

  "Sherlock, she's exactly like you. If she saw something worth chasing, I know you saw it as well."

  "John she's an overemotional mother whose lover walked out on her. She may be smart, but she feels too much. No, there's nothing there."

  John did not believe a word of it. The sociopath had extremely keen eyes, there was no way Sherlock thought the case had nothing going for it.

  "Sherlock, I am ashamed of you. You hardly even know what the case is about and you are putting it down like a dog. How could you be so uncaring?" john said. He'd used the tactic before and it normally worked, well almost.

"John, not this again. Try reverse psychology, maybe that will work. It will definitely be a change." Sherlock then wrapped his blanket around him tighter and faced the cushion of the sofa. Suddenly, an idea came to John.

  "I think I know why you are being grumpy." John said standing up. He walked over and towered over Sherlock and the sofa.

  "You do, do you? Go on, what is your hypothesis?"

  John grinned devilishly

  "She reminds you of her." he said.

  "Of who, John. Specification is key."

  "Her. The Woman. Dominatrix. Irene Adler. Take your pick of name and title. She reminds you of her." Sherlock was quiet, he did not move, he scarcely took a breathe.  John was wrong, he usually was. But he was on the right track. Ms. Ericksson had an air around her that was seen as secretive, and secretive was dangerous. Just like Her. Of course Ms. Ericksson was nothing like Ms. Adler. Nothing at all. To add to the appeal, Ms. Ericksson was smart and new exactly what she wanted. She knew how to get it safely as well. As a mother she would want nothing but safe for her child.

John knew he had hit it spot on, though Sherlock would not admit it for all of the special criminal cases in the world. The Unofficial Detective normally froze up when the Woman was brought up. Everyone could see he cared for her to at least some degree. You had to be blind to think that he did not. Everyone knew her as the past. Sherlock thought that John believed she was gone, dead. But the Doctor knew better. He knew Sherlock better.

Without warning Sherlock jumped off the sofa and threw the blanket across his chair.

  "Come on John, what are you just standing there for? The case won't solve itself." he said, "Now, where is that card.

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Amara was in the motion of laying down in bed when a knock on her front door caused her to scramble for some more decent clothes. All she could find was a cotton robe. She grabbed a newsletter opener off her desk and held it behind her back rushing down the stairs. She never had company this late at night and if she did it was usually Greg. Though normally the Chief Inspector called before showing up. 

  Walking down the stairs and turning on the lights in the hall, the brief hope that it was James had crossed her mind. But she knew better than to let her mind wander to wishful thinking. James wasn't coming home, and he sure as hell wasn't about to kiss her like he wanted her back. No, she KNEW it had to be Sherlock. He was the only one who knew where to find her besides Greg (who was currently sleeping in bed alone as his wife had just found yet another man under 25 to sleep with, not that the poor man knew that). The door was painted a dull white and was rimed with an equally dull gray. Amara had hated the colors and often spoke of painting and redecorating but James wouldn't have it. He often said that beyond that door was hell and his only safe haven, his only normal was in that house. With his family.

  Amara unlocked the door and pushed it open. In front of her stood the brooding man with clear blue eyes, and a funny hat.

 "What on gods green Earth are you wearing Sherlock Holmes?" Sh said with the hint of a smile. He grimaced as if in pain, though he was physically alright the damned ear-hat had cost him his pride. Especially as he was embarrassed by it a number of times in front of the large masses of the media that seemed to follow him around. She knew he Hated, no DESPISED the cursed thing. He then glared at the woman.

  "Not. Funny. I am here because you have my curiosity. Goodbye. The End." Amara raised her eyebrows as the man started walking around displaying and dramatizing the situation. He then turned back around and pointed at her. "You somehow have leverage over me and information over the case I am working which means that you are somehow connected to Moriarty.  What I want to know is how. How does a simple woman from Scotland Yard who does not even have her own office space have information not even I have yet to discover. Unless you came by that information in a way I daren't speak of"

   And there it was. The first big mistake Sherlock ever made with Amara Ericksson. The man had no clue who he was messing with. He had no clue that all Amara had to do was say a few simple words and his entire life would come crashing down. Instead Ms. Ericksson kept quiet. Her poker face so perfected that Sherlock had thought she was going to react as she had earlier. Snarky, and maybe reduced to a few tears. He had not expected what came next. It was a blur. One second he was over looking the entry hall, the next he was on the ground and seeing a black void filled with little yellow dots here and there. 

  "Mr. Holmes, I expect you to watch your tongue next time you walk through those doors. If you ever speak to me as if I am insubordinate again you will get much more than just a right hook to the face and a black eye to prove it. More than something that mars that overly symmetrical face. Do remember that I am a lady with a more than average IQ. I am no whore that only spreads her legs for survival, and more importantly I am no Dominatrix. I am not Irene Adler and I certainly will not act as though I am just so you will help me. Do not underestimate me again. Do you understand?"She said.

"Mummy, what's going on? Why is that funny looking man on the floor?" Amara whirled around to find Pieter standing on the stairs. Her eyes widened. How much had he seen, how much had he heard. 

  "Pieter, you should be asleep. What are you doing out of bed Sweets?" She said clearing her throat.

Sherlock just continued to lay there on the floor bewildered. Amara was certainly a hand full and continued to surprise him at every corner. He felt weak, like he was about to crumble to pieces, and not because the female had just punched him. Her words seemed to suck all of his confidence right out of him. The mentioning of HER in a bad light had brought him to his knees, figuratively speaking. His senses just stopped working, all but his sense of feeling physical things. And right now, as he lay there like a dog in the middle of the hall he felt vibrations.

  "Jesus Sherlock, what did you do now?" That voice, he knew that voice. he looked up.

           John Watson's angry and perplexed features looked down upon him.

                                            "Hello John" Sherlock mumbled.