The Glass Rose

Chapter Seven

"I'm so sorry Mr. Holmes, but we must be returning to pack. We're heading back this evening. The wedding has been pushed by our parents to tomorrow. So sorry about the short notice and if you aren't able to attend as a result."

"Of course, my apologies for holding you up. I wish you safe travels." Adelaide wanted nothing more than to give up now. Sherlock hadn't realized there was anything amiss, despite being a world-famous detective, and she was just going to be killed in a few days. Maybe hours, maybe minutes. Her time on earth was coming to an end and at least if she died here, she could die in the presence of someone she cared about. She shook her head, deciding she would try to escape later. They began walking away, but Adelaide turned over her shoulder to Sherlock.

"Sherlock." She turned around quickly, a small albeit genuine smile spread across her lips. The detective looked at her with his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm so grateful to have had you as a friend. No matter what, you will forever be my greatest and best friend." Without another word, Martin pulled her around a corner and he was gone.

"Laying it on thick, don't you think? Are you trying to give something away to your friend there?"

"Of course not, I'm not that stupid."

"I think you are. You were saying goodbye to him in the hopes that he would realize you were in danger. You're lucky I don't kill you right here."

"He's not following us. He clearly didn't assume anything from that interaction."

"Just hurry up and get us back to your apartment." She did as she had been told, dread settling into the pit of her stomach. She wasn't going with him. She wasn't going to marry this man just to wonder when would be the day he decided to use the knife to kill her. Adelaide told herself, no, she promised herself she wouldn't be leaving with him, not alive anyway. The next time she would leave her apartment, it would either be while she was alive and well, or it would be as a corpse.

Her hands trembled as she pulled out her key, making it difficult to unlock the door. At last, she did, and he pushed her into the room, making her fall to the ground. He locked the door behind them and pointed the knife threateningly.

"Start packing." She nodded and began in the kitchen, looking for something she could use to defend herself. At that moment, she had never cursed her clumsiness more. After cutting her fingers so many times, Sherlock confiscated her knives and put them in his apartment so she could only use them while he was supervising. She didn't care at the time because she mostly baked in her apartment, but now it made life much more complicated when her best weapon was a butter knife.

Martin walked over to her, realizing what she was doing. He grabbed the back of her head and slammed it into the cabinet in front of her. A small cry left Adelaide's mouth. Her head had begun spinning and she tried her best to support herself against the counter.

"I said to start packing!" She nodded, instantly regretting it as an even sharper pain tore through her head. "You know what, don't bother. I'm sure your parents will give the dowry as long as I organize your funeral anyway." At this point, any hope for rational thought was out the window. She was in a life-or-death scenario and running on auto-pilot now. She quickly turned away from him, just as he tried to stab her in the chest, instead slicing the outside of her arm. She grimaced, but that cut was better than a stab wound. She placed a hand over the cut instinctively as blood began pouring down her arm. She ran around the kitchen counter and into the living room. She tripped over the edge of the rug, falling forward, leaving a bloody handprint on her white rug. She stared at it for a moment, realizing just how severe things had become.

He came up behind her and kicked her harshly in the ribs, knocking the wind out of her. She now lay on the white carpet that was getting more and more red, gasping for air. This was the end. She would die here. All she lived through. Losing her father, her mother abandoning her, the first time she was attacked, none of it mattered because it all ended here. He would be smarter this time. He wouldn't aim for the corset, he would aim for her neck.