Loving a Holmes

The Trails of the New Years

It had been an about a week since Christmas and was New Year's day. Sherlock had spent most of his time composing mournful music, not eating, just playing and composing. I hear the tune as I ascend the stairs to the boys flat. When I get to the top of the stairs I am pulled into the flat by John and Mrs. Hudson, through the side door. John sighs as he looks between Mrs. Hudson and I. "Has he ever had a relationship before Madison? A boyfriend, girlfriend, a relationship ever?"

Mrs. Hudson and I shrug. "I don't know."

John sighs again. "How can we not know?"

"He's Sherlock, how will we ever know what does on in the funny head of his."

I sigh softly, "He's trying to work through something he hasn't had to before. While I did not like her, Adler was someone who could challenge Sherlock and an intellectual level, even more than I can."

John nods. "See if you can help him figure out the password to that phone of Irene's." I nod as John turns, heading out of the flat, leaving Mrs. Hudson and I to listen to Sherlock playing his mournful tune. Shortly after John leaves Sherlock stops playing, looking out the window, no doubt seeing John. Soon after Sherlock goes back to his room, getting changed and heading out as well. I know it is best to give him his space right now and let him work through his emotions on his own.

Mrs. Hudson goes back downstairs to clean up her flat and I begin to look over the music Sherlock has written, humming the melody I had heard earlier. The peace I had found this afternoon was broken when I hear Mrs. Hudson let out a cry for help. "Sherlock!"

I can hear the sounds of multiple sets of feet coming up the stairs, along with a struggle. It takes the few seconds between I hear Mrs. Hudson's cries for help again. Before she and three men enter the main room of Sherlock and John's flat, I hide. I am able to hide in the kitchen behind the door to the kitchen from the hall. I begin thinking of all the ways that I can get Mrs. Hudson and myself out alive.

As the different situations run through my head I can hear the men talking and to my surprised I recognizing their voices. The Americans. "Check the flat, I'm sure that tasty little girlfriend of his is here somewhere." I hear the men make their way through flat and wait until one stops in front of the door. Once one of them stops I jump out from behind the door, kicking him into the table in front of us, jumping on his back and slamming his head on the table, breaking his nose. Before I can do anything else I hear the leader of the group clear his throat. "That's enough, Ms. Love." There isn't a doubt in my mind that he has a gun on me. I stand, turning to face him slowly. When I am turned around the man I had attacked knocks me onto the ground, before dragging me beside Mrs. Hudson, who has been hit on the right cheek, by the leader of the group.

I glare up at him and notice that much like before they are only armed with the guns they had out. Once I remember what they were after at Adler's flat I look around and see if I can find the phone, but it is nowhere in sight. I can only hope that Sherlock either took it or hide it. "Now, we sit and wait for your clever boyfriend to get back and give us what we want."

"And what is that?"

"The photos of course."

I glance around the room once more, looking for somewhere Sherlock could have hidden the phone. It doesn't take more than 30 minutes for Sherlock to get back to the flat and walk into the room, glancing around and working through what he needs to do in his head. I can see his eyes moving around the room rapidly, as the leader of the ground moves a gun to the back of Mrs. Hudson's head and the man behind me does the same to me. Mrs. Hudson begins to cry out of fear, calling to Sherlock softly as he walks in. "Oh, Sherlock... Sherlock."

"Don't snivel, Mrs. Hudson. It will do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet. What a tender world that would be." Sherlock glances over to me and then to the man behind me, whose nose is swollen and bloody from my earlier attack. Sherlock smirks down at me for a moment before turning his attention back to the leader.