The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Seventeen: Personification of Innocence

When we got back to 221B, the first thing both of us noticed was that the door was open. Not standing open, but it wasn't closed all the way, and based on the wear of the edge of the door...somebody had kicked it in.

We entered and saw a discarded box of cleaning supplies and some scuffs on the wall by the stairs. Shoe scuffs. Also, some of the wallpaper had been scratched off of the wall.

"Mrs. Hudson." I whispered. He nodded. We went upstairs, entering the flat to see our good friends the Americans. Mrs. Hudson was sitting in a chair, a hand on her shoulder and a silencer pressed to her head.

"Oh, Sherlock...Claudia." She sobbed.

"Don't snivel, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock told her. "It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet. What a tender world that would be."

"Oh, please, sorry Sherlock."

"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes."

"Then why don't you ask for it." Sherlock  walked foreword, pushing up Mrs. Hudson sleeve to reveal bruises.

"Well we've been asking this one, but she doesn't seem to know anything." I saw the shoulder of her shirt was ripped. "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr. Holmes?" She had a bruise on her face, a cut in the middle of it. The man's ring had blood on it. Oh, I don't think so.

"I believe I do." Sherlock said darkly.

"Please help." Mrs. Hudson whispered.

"First get rid of your boys."

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered, it makes for too much stupid in the room." He replied.

"You two, go to the car."

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me, you know who I am it doesn't work." They left.

"Next on the agenda, you can stop pointing that gun at him." I started.

"So you can point a gun at me?" He asked, remembering our last encounter.

"She's unarmed." Sherlock told him.

"Mind if I check?"

"Oh, I insist." He walked over to me, feeling down my body. I didn't like it. He stopped at my hips, his hands lingering far longer then they needed to, so I turned around and sprayed glass aerosol  air freshener in his eyes. He screamed and Sherlock head-butted him, causing him to fall unconscious on the coffee table.

"Moron." Sherlock stated. Sherlock crouched down in front of Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, thank you." Mrs. Hudson cried.

"You're all right now, you're all right." He spoke gently to her, revealing a side of Sherlock that I hadn't seen before. He cares for Mrs. Hudson.

"Yes." I shook my head.

~~~

When John arrived, I was sitting with Mrs. Hudson on the couch, and the American was tied up in a chair, his mouth duct taped and his nose bleeding. Sherlock had the gun pointed at him and his phone pressed to his ear.

"What's going on?" He asked. "My gosh, what the heck is happening?"

"Mrs. Hudson's been attacked by an American, I'm restoring balance to the universe."

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, my gosh. Are you alright?" John sat down on the other side of her. "What have they done to you?"

"Oh, I'm just being so silly."

"Of course you're not." I said, glaring at the man.

"Downstairs, take her downstairs and look after her. Claudia, you go too."

"I don't want to." I told him. "I want to stay." He shook his head.

"No."

"Why?" I asked.  He came over to me, standing rather close.

"You are the girl that reads tragic romance and wears dresses with collars. You are the personification of innocence and that is how I would like you to stay." I bit my lip, but nodded, glaring at the man once more before turning and following John and Mrs. Hudson downstairs.

~~~

"Oh it stings." Mrs. Hudson said. John was cleaning her cut and I had a needle and thread, sewing her shirt back up. We saw a shadow pass over the window and there was a loud crash."Oh, that was right on my bins." 

"Good." I said, finishing up the stitch and cutting the thread.

~~~

I stood with Sherlock and Greg on the sidewalk as the ambulance and police cars surrounded the flat. Sherlock's hand resided on my lower back, not that Greg noticed.

"And exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?" Greg asked.

"It's all a bit of a blur Detective Inspector." I leaned over Sherlock, looking at him.

"We lost count." He walked away without a word. "So much for saving me from corruption." He smiled and we went back inside to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight, we need to look after her."

"No." Mrs. Hudson said.

"She's fine." Sherlock opened the fridge.

"No, she's not, look at her. She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."

"Don't be absurd." Sherlock said, taking a bite out of a mince pie.

"She's in shock, for goodness sake,  and all over some bloody stupid camera-phone."

"Where is it, anyway?"

"Safest place I know." Sherlock replied, his mouth full. He looked at Mrs. Hudson, who pulled it out of her bra. 

"You left it in the pocket of your second best dressing gown you clot. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."

"Thank you. Shame on you, John Watson."

"Shame on me?" He asked.

"Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?"

"England would fall." I assured him. Sherlock hugged her and she laughed. John smiled.

~~~

I sat in my chair with a drink in my hand. John poured himself a drink coming from the kitchen and Sherlock took his coat off.

"Where is it now?" John asked.

"Where no one will look." He picked up his violin.

"Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures."

"Yes it is." Sherlock replied.

"So, she's alive, then." John mentioned, eyeing me warily.

"I know. I was there." I said, looking at him over my glass.

"How are we feeling about that?" The clock struck midnight. New Year.

"Happy New Year, John."

"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?" He asked. Sherlock just turned, picking up his bow and playing Auld Lang Syne. I smiled. John sat in his chair and I started to quietly sing the words along with the violin.

It's moments like these that make me appreciate what my life has become. Just today, Sherlock and I made amends, Mrs. Hudson was taken hostage, Irene Adler is alive, and Sherlock Holmes half killed a man. And now we sit in our living room, the fire roaring and drinks in our hands while Sherlock plays the violin into the new year.  It's rather unordinary, my life. It's dangerous, and confusing, and just a downright mess.

I love it with all my heart.