A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 20: The Woman Who Beat You

AN: Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

***

Alice and Sherlock found John in the bedroom kneeling beside Kate, who was lying on the floor. "It's alight," John said to Irene, who was walking towards her assistant. "She's just out cold,"

"Well, God knows she's used to that," Irene commented, "There's a back door; better check it, Dr. Watson,"

John gave a concerned look to Sherlock. "I'll go with you," Alice said, leading John out of the bedroom. As the two left the room, Irene took a small syringe from her vanity.

"You're very calm," Sherlock commented, "Considering your booby trap did just kill a man,"

"He would have killed me. It was self-defense in advance," Irene said blankly. She walked across to Sherlock and stroked his left arm. When he looked down at her hand, she stabbed the syringe into his right arm before pulling it back out.

"What? What is that? What...?" Sherlock asked, affected by the drug that ran through his veins. Irene proceeded to slap him and he fell to the floor.

"Give it to me. Now. Give it to me," Irene instructed as she held out her hand.

"No," Sherlock said. He grunted as he stood back up, his vision becoming hazy.

"Oh for goodness sake," Irene reached for her riding crop on her table and wielded it at him. "Drop it. I...said...drop it," She hit him with each word.

On the third smack, he fell back onto the floor and dropped the phone.

"Ah, Thank you, dear," Irene said, picking the phone off the floor. "Now, tell that sweet little posh thing that the pictures are safe with me. Not for blackmail, just for insurance. Besides, I might want to see her again,"

Sherlock grunted again, trying to get up. Irene promptly pressed him back down with one of her feet and her riding crop.

"Oh, no, no, no. It's been a pleasure. Don't spoil it," Irene began to stroke his face with her riding crop. "This is how I want you to remember me: The woman who beat you,"

"Jesus, What are you doing?" John yelled as he and Alice arrived back into the bedroom.

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for an unattractive corpse," Irene said as she sat on the windowsill in the bathroom. She grasped a chord of rope hanging from the ledge.

"What have you given him?" John asked picking up the syringe.

Alice knelt down beside the consulting detective. "Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?"

"He'll be fine, I've used it on loads of my friends. You know, I was wrong about him," Irene said "He did know where to look,"

"For what? What are you talking about?" John asked, stand back up.

"The key code to my safe," Irene looked over to Sherlock, almost affectionately. "Shall I tell him? My measurements," Irene then toppled out of the window as the police sirens came closer.

***

Sherlock jerked back into consciousness. He found himself alone in his bed and covered with a sheet. "John? John!" He called out, throwing back the sheet and rolled onto the floor.

"You okay?" John asked as he entered Sherlock's room.

"How did I get here?"

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you: Lestrade filmed you on his phone," John said as Sherlock struggled to get back up on his feet.