Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Six: Ships in the Night

CHAPTER SIX: SHIPS IN THE NIGHT

John was starting to worry if Amelia was going to show. He clasped Mary's hand tightly as the clock inched closer towards seven. With every passing second, it seemed more and more likely that Amelia wasn't going to appear. Upon discovering that Amelia had no intention of returning to New York, John had forced Amelia to agree to another dinner with him and Mary today, five days later, but Amelia hadn't enjoyed herself last time, and John was worried that Amelia wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"She'll be here." Mary assured with a pat on John's forearm.

"I wouldn't count on it." said a man, sliding up alongside them. He lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply. He threw his head back, raising his face to the night sky, letting the moonlight bathe over him. "Amelia seems to be a fussy one."

John frowned, eyeing the man. "I'm sorry, do we know you?"

The man chuckled, sweeping his dark blonde curls back. He took another long drag from his cigarette, "Hardly, but I do know you, John Watson. And don't worry, I don't mean any harm. There's no need to call your friends at Scotland Yard. I just wanted to talk." His voice sounded vaguely familiar but John couldn't remember why.

"John," Mary murmured, "perhaps we should go inside."

The man gave her a dark look. "Don't be absurd, Mary—that is what you're going by right now, isn't it? Or I might just have to call Charles."

Mary paled instantly. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Now," the man smiled, "isn't that just the question?"

Just then a woman came outside, a torn shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked completely out of place alongside the nameless man with her thinning sequin dress, and ratty dirty-blonde hair. "Sherry," she sang, voice just as sweet as the drink she had called him. "What are you doing out in the cold?"

"Avoiding you." he snapped, demeanour changing instantly. He dropped his cigarette onto the pavement, grinding it out with the heel of his expensive leather shoe. He turned to Mary and John, "And yes, I suppose you may call me Sherry, like the drink, for the time being. Feel free to pass on the name to your friends."

"Well," the woman sneered, "you don't seem to be doing that all too well."

"Don't be clever, and I was doing it well, until you came outside, so don't lie." he said. "Lying isn't an attractive feature, and darling, you can't afford to be any less attractive, but I suppose the food's getting cold." He tipped an imaginary hat to Mary and John, "I reckon we'll be seeing each other very soon, and I must say, I'm looking forward to having the whole gang together." He snapped his fingers, the blonde woman's head jerking upwards. "Come along, Rachel. There's no point in wasting perfectly good food." He smiled at John and Mary before leading Rachel inside, hissing threats at her under his breath.

"Did you know him?" Mary asked John.

He frowned and shook his head. "Never seen him before, but he looks familiar, I just can't..." He trailed off, deep in thought. Then, he checked his watch. "She isn't coming."

As if on cue, Amelia jumped out of a nearby cab. "Sorry I'm late. I sent Mycroft some work, but he didn't get around to doing it so I ended up having to do it myself. It took a lot longer than I expected." Underneath the layers of makeup, John could see the bags under her eyes. Her hair had been messily pulled up in such a way John was certain that she had meant for it to be elegant, but it was now frizzy and starting to fall down. The off-the-shoulder black dress that she wore did nothing to hide how much weight, and muscle, Amelia had lost since Sherlock had fallen from St. Bart's. In essence: Amelia looked exhausted.