Peter Parker & Tom Holland Imagines

holland & holmes pt.3

Three weeks, that's how long it's taken us to finally make some headway in this case, and I can only imagine the lecture I would get from Papa about taking so long. But it wasn't until we had a second murder that we were finally able to make some headway.

I'm certain it's not Moriarty, but I do believe it's someone who is almost as demented as he was. The second murder finally gave us clues started lining up with my deductions and creating a clear path, which led us here.

I force myself to take a deep breath as Thomas and I enter the glittering ballroom. My free hand keeps gravitating to the emerald silk of my gown, and eyes flicker from the passing faces to the glittering ring that's on my hand once again. "You remember the plan?" I ask Thomas, as we smile and greet people in passing.

"Of course," he whispers and turns to me with a frown, "I just don't know how I feel about it."

"This is our best chance, Holland." I whisper as I move towards the dance floor where we're less likely to be heard. "If we don't catch him tonight, I can guarantee it we'll have another dead lady of the court by morning. It's not a choice this time, now dance with me so I can get a good view of our suspects."

Thomas lets out a heavy sigh as we start the choreography in sync with the others. "Who exactly are we looking for?"

"Male, likely in his late twenties, likely attractive enough to gain attention, but lacks the charisma to keep it." I tell him as my eyes scan the room through our possible suspects. "Based on the victims, he either was previously engaged or still is, but with the victim's reputations, we can assume she either has or is cheating on him."

"That makes for quite a list of suspects, you know." Thomas whispers, which makes my focus waver from the feeling of his breath on my neck. "Most of the men in here have experienced something of that sort."

"Well, then I suppose we flush him out." I counter and bow to him as the song ends. "Come on, Holland, we don't have a moment to waste."

I spend the next dreadful hour mingling and forcing smiles by Thomas's side before we move to initiate the next phase of the plan. It's not until he starts to drag me to one of the hidden little alcoves that I finally come back to my senses. "Thomas Holland, what are you doing?" I seethe in a hushed whisper.

He turns to me with a sheepish smile as we find ourselves crammed together in the small space. "I'm sorry, but I just wanted a moment with you before this all happens. Not to mention, there's one thing I need to do."

"What are yo—" I start to say, but the words are hastily cut off by Thomas's hand on my waist and lips against mine. It's only takes me a moment to recover from the shock and kiss him back. My heart warms in my chest; this is something that I missed so much—just being close to Thomas again without the tension or social barriers.

He pulls away with a smile. "I'm sorry, but I had to do that before I lost my chance."

"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation," I sigh and sadly smile up at him, "we do have a murderer to catch."

"Of course," his voice is quiet and unsure, "I'll send Harrison by then."

A part of me wants to reach out to him as he leaves, but I know now isn't the time for that conversation. I need to keep my head in the moment instead of worrying about what just happened.

My fingers brush over my lips as the feeling still lingers, and I can't stop the smile that creeps across my face. It's not until I hear rustling from the hallway that I return from my fanciful daydreaming. "Harrison, I thought you knew better than to take your time with these things." I whisper in the assumption that he's the one making the noise. The notion quickly fades as I hear a deep, unfamiliar voice muttering under their breath.

"I am mercy. I bring cleansing to the corrupted." The shadow steps into view, face barely illuminated in the dim lighting. "I bring justice; I am mercy." Goosebumps rise across my skin as the stranger comes closer, and it takes me a long moment to realize who it is—Lord Alfred Barrowman.

I remember reading in the papers that Thomas brought me in my isolation about his family. His father was under Moriarty's thumb, and after his passing, the Barrowman's corruption and dirty laundry was hung out to dry in the public eye. If I remember correctly, which I almost certainly do, it was his sister who ruined the family reputation. She had been involved in quite the scandal by becoming pregnant by her betrothed. I remember Mrs. Hudson's lectures on what it means to be a proper lady and such after the story came out.

"Huh, for once I was wrong." I mutter under my breath as I slip my hand back to the secret pocket in the back of my dress. "Why are you doing this, Alfred?"

"You all deserve it. The guilty must be tried and cleansed before their corruption spreads." He tells me in what I would think was a daze if not for the malicious gleam in his eye. I stand my ground and try to bite back the fear as my fingers just barely graze the handle of my knife before Alfred closes in on me and presses a handkerchief to my face. "Don't worry; this will all be over soon."

I struggle against him, fighting for what I know might just be my life and hold my breath to avoid the chemicals. He grows in frustration as he slams me against the nearest wall and clamps my free hand against the wall. My head spins as it makes contact with the wall; the sensation making me take in an involuntary gasp.

My nose burns from the chemicals, and I am suddenly returned to the night on Baker Street that Moriarty came to make me the queen in his sick game against my father. It brings tears in my eyes as I feel trapped as I was that night, and I push off the wall with a strength beyond myself and slam Alfred into the opposing side.

Everything falls under the haze of adrenaline, and I barely register my actions until Alfred lets out a scream. His eyes fill with malice as he looks up from the blood pouring out of his leg. My knife is trapped in my white-knuckled grip as he launches himself at me in the blink of an eye.

Alfred throws me to the ground and grabs a vase of flowers off the table. "You shouldn't have done that." He growls as he towers over me and swings the vase at my head. It makes contact against my temple with an unsettling crack, and everything suddenly goes black.