The Good, The Bad and The Woman

Thy Kingdom Come

8. Thy Kingdom Come

As John climbed the stairs to his old flat, raised voices floated down to him from inside 221 B. For a second, his mind raised to alert before he realized he could only hear Irene and Sherlock's voices. He wasn't sure whether to rush to aid, or give the couple some space to vent. His daughter gurgled word-like sounds and wriggled uncomfortably in the baby carrier on his front, as if she could sense the tension that lingered in the flat.

On hesitant legs, the doctor climbed the last few steps and entered the war zone with one final, brave intake of oxygen.

"I said: drop it!" Irene snarled. The woman stood behind one of the armchairs, leaned forwards as if prepared to strike a killing blow at any second. She seemed vicious and in control as she glared down at her prey. Opposite her, Sherlock reclined in his armchair and looked far more at ease with the situation.

"It was a reasonable observation!" the curly-haired man spat in a mocking tune. Something was off about his voice, though. The man slurred thickly as if attempting to speak beneath water and his mannerisms seemed quite drunk (or perhaps more accurately: high). John frowned in silent reprimand from his unnoticed position. If this was about drugs - so help me God! - the blond man would tear his friend to pieces if the woman didn't.

"No, it wasn't!"

"Then why are you-"

"You're the clever detective: deduce!" the brunette hissed and John realized it was the first time he'd seen the poised woman so frustrated. He'd seen her fire before, but never in well-guarded anger such as this. The only thing that popped to mind which he could compare it to, was her brief loss of control after shooting Hazaar in Ireland. She'd been the cornered beast then, and perhaps she wasn't as in control now as she had seemed at first glance. The woman concluded, "I'm going out for a while. Don't you dare follow me!"

Sherlock chortled humorlessly as he remained slumped over in his armchair and his slurred sentence sounded like one long word, "That would be difficult since you laced my tea with muscle relaxants! … Clever, by the way."

The woman grinned coldly and her bright flames went out with the chill that suddenly invaded the flat. Without another word, she turned towards the open door and threw on her pale trench coat. Before the guest could say anything the woman stormed past him like a graceful swan in flight. Brusquely, she said, "Goodbye, John!"

After Irene had fled the battlefield, the blond man opened and closed his mouth a couple of times while he blinked in plain confusion.

"Is this a bad time…?" he managed at length. "You did know I was coming by to drop Elizabeth off? I didn't just imagine that you agreed to it last week?"

"You and Mary need some time together as a couple. I remember," the detective slurred and his head leaned heavily against the backrest as he sunk further into his chair. It seemed he had been using all his energy to seem in control of his body while the brunette had been present, but his drugged muscles simply couldn't uphold the facade anymore. "… In The woman's defense, I was going to follow her. But only because I can't leave that task to my homeless network. Tried it once, she caught on to it straight away. Not like you."

"… Eh, okay," the blond man said as he put down the bag of baby items and then stepped further onto the battlefield to check the casualties. "So… what was your argument about?"

The man's shoulders twitched in what John assumed was a shrug. "I'm not sure."

"Honeymoon's over, is it?"

"This wasn't our first fight," the man huffed and something indescribable flashed by in his tired eyes. "Only the first one I can't understand."

"Huh..." was all that the blond man managed as he considered his friend's explanation. It wasn't much, but a small glimpse into the wondrous, Asperger-ish world he would never entirely understand.