Dazed and Confused

Sherlock Holmes was not the most likeable of individuals and having to stay with him was not the most ideal of situations. The five days passed and the finance minister of Russia announced the beginning of the Trans Siberian Railway. Of course he still was dubious of the truth and everything involving me. During these five days I couldn’t help but pity the man, he couldn’t turn off his keen observing skills and it often got him ostracized from society. Somehow I grew accustomed to it, not really letting it bother me as much as it bothered others. Holmes often tried to anger me, nitpick at everything I did but I countered with his own faults. As someone with schizotypal tendencies, I could understand his detachment from people and their views. After observing him I couldn’t help but think the issue was that he suffered from Asperger syndrome and caused him to lack certain social skills as well as be immersed in narrow topics.

It was a strange thing observing Sherlock, I had read the Sir Arthur Doyle stories and found him as a character very interesting. Yet having him right in front of my face was another story. He was better looking than I thought he’d be but much more intolerable. My thoughts often drifted to Moriarty and how if I had been more careful with my words that perhaps I wouldn’t be in the position that I was currently in. Thinking back to that night I could remember how strange I felt at that party. There was much to be said of that night yet so little to tell, Moriarty was enigmatic and unnerving. Every bit of time spent with him was uncomfortable and I found myself caught in his stare when he watched me from across the room. He looked incredibly out of place and yet very distinguished in his presence. When he approached me I was half paying attention to my drink and the other half to my friends who were drinking excessively.

My thoughts however were interrupted when I felt someone’s stare on me. Flicking my eyes away from the detailed molding on the ceiling I noticed Sherlock Holmes standing near the entrance of the sitting room, staring in calculative manner. He tossed a bright red apple in his hand whilst he stared at me. Eye contact broke when he caught the apple and shined it against the lapel of his tweed jacket whilst he began to pace the room. The pacing almost like a vulture circling a potential meal and I followed his movements with my eyes. I knew for a fact he was going to say something but I wasn’t quite sure what. He approached where I sat and pulled out a white handkerchief. Sitting down on the arm of the chair I was seated at he held the handkerchief out to me.

“You‘re bleeding,” he states before taking a bite of his apple. It was then I took notice of the warm liquid that slipped out of my left nostril. I took the handkerchief and placed it over the area then leaned back in the chair attempting to stop the bleeding. There wasn’t a time in my life that I had such a problem and I began to worry whether my health was becoming compromised with each passing day that I spent in the past.

“Please tell me you’ve caught on to him,” I spoke closing my eyes in frustration.

“Who?”

“You know damn well who I speak of. It may come as a shock to you but I have a family, a family that I care for dearly and being away from them…I hate it, I hate not being able to have anyone that is actually on my side without question.”

“Is this a common event? These nose bleeds?” Holmes responds without acknowledging the despair in my voice.

“No, but my nasal passageways could be dry from environment change. It does happen to people. You interrupted my train of thoughts when you came in,” I reply quick to change the subject.

“And what thoughts were those?”

“The night I was taken, I keep replaying it over and over in my mind. Moriarty can‘t have honestly chosen me at random, I have to be connected somehow. He plans his every move, taking me does not fit into his methodical thought process.”

“For the sake of this case, what was your life before this?”

“College student, two parents alive, three older brothers, my studies were focused on business and living arrangements with other college students. Just a normal middle class life,” I answer simply.

“Your father‘s profession?”

“Carpentry, construction, anything to do with home repair. He worked when he could and kept food on the table.”

“And did he have any affiliation with Moriarty or any shady individuals?”

“I‘m sure my father will become a shady individual when his only daughter is missing. Something I worry about considering the likelihood of him finding me now is slim,” I say as the volume level of my voice grew quieter. The bleeding had stopped and I brought my head back to its normal position. I got up from the seat, a feeling of determination welling up within my core and placed my right hand on my hip. My eyes traveled to the open window, there was a notation that someone was watching from a distance. Honing in on that notation my eyes searched for a potential person that was there for a reason. I had recognized a face but made no eye contact before I grabbed a nearby paperweight. For a moment I just played with it and turned to my side looking back into the room for a brief second before turning quickly. Hurling the paperweight I managed to hit the head of the man that had been watching me from a distance. “Time to get some answers.”

Without another word I hurried out of the room to catch the man whom I recognized from the night I had been ambushed. Quickly I went out the front entrance and proceeded down the stairs. A few were asking the man whether he was alright when I managed to make my way towards him. He was now in a confused state and I gave him a sympathetic gaze. Taking his hand I led him back towards the building where Sherlock Holmes stood staring with wonder. I paid no attention however and pulled the strange slightly odorous man into the home.

“What is your name?” I question the man.

“Hans,” the man muttered holding his head.

“Moriarty seems to favor you for his dirty work, why has he been having you watch me?” I continue to ask. The man’s eyes grew wide and he made a move to leave but I kicked in the back of his leg causing it to bend at the knee. He fell to the ground and I looked down at him. “Tell me Hans.”

“He wanted me to take you to him.”

“Well, I‘m here, take me to him.”

“He didn‘t want Holmes to know,” Hans responds.

“Tough cookie, you shouldn’t have been loitering in front of the building like an idiot,” I state.

“You aren‘t going with him,” Holmes says.

“Like you need me here anyways, follow us what ever you please but I am going to see Moriarty and find out why the hell he‘s brought me into your fight.”

“Does that mean you will come without fight?” Hans responds sounding somewhat hopeful.

“As long as you keep your hands to yourself you will be fine,” I answer as I let him get back onto his feet. Holmes merely stared at me with a mix of disbelief and contempt. Either way I was going to get to the bottom of things regardless of what Holmes said. Hans moved towards the front entrance and I looked back at Holmes.

“You‘re in over your head.”

“Not your problem and not your choice Holmes.”

I left 221B Baker Street with the man I had now beat up on two occasions and now only hope that I would get to the bottom of things. As I would have thought Sherlock didn’t follow or perhaps he was incognito, there was really no knowing but the best bet was that he wasn’t following because it didn’t concern him. Leaving the familiar street behind me I was taken to more foreign territory in the horse drawn carriage. Of course it wasn’t the best of ideas to go straight to the lion’s den but who was I to have logical ideas besides wanting to do anything in order to get my happy ass back to my own time? I could careless about waiting like an idiot at Sherlock’s home just twiddling my thumbs hoping Holmes would actually take into consideration my entire situation. He wasn’t all that bad but I had a family that was waiting back home for me and I needed to get back so that they don’t get upset about my leave. After all who wants to miss someone they love with no knowing whether they are dead or not? With my situation they would never get the closure they need to move on with their lives without thinking what really happened to me.

All my thinking stopped when the carriage lurched to a halt. We seemed to have stopped in front of a restaurant and another man dressed in better attire greeted me at the door by placing his hand on my back to lead me to where Moriarty sat drinking tea. He sipped from the lovely porcelain cup and looked up at me with a close lipped smile. I forced to sit across from him by his right hand man and I kept my eyes forward.

“Care for a cup of tea?”

“No thank you. I‘d rather skip the pleasantries and get to the point,” I state staring back at him.

“You get straight to the point, I must say it is one of your traits that I enjoy aside from the obvious physical traits you possess,” Moriarty replies in a casual manner. “It is no secret you are a fetching young woman. Holmes has seemed to take notice as well.”

“What‘s that supposed to mean?”

“I have eyes everywhere my dear. However that‘s besides the point, I brought you here today for other reasons. I‘d like to take you somewhere.”

“We are somewhere,” I reply simply. Moriarty merely smiled but made no reply. “What‘s the end game Moriarty?”

“No end game for you darling, I actually enjoy your presence and do not wish to dispel our relationship however volatile you may be towards me,” he responds.

“Our relationship? Is it possible for someone to be so delusional?”

“I‘d be careful with how you speak to me Miss Biala.”

“I don‘t understand how you expect me to have patience when all you want to be is this irritating enigma. Get to the point, I am at my wits end,” I retort placing my palms flat on the white table cloth.

“I suppose I can understanding your impatience. Come with me,” Moriarty counters dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. I stood up from the chair as he did the very same. We made our way out of the restaurant and back to an actual vehicle. To be honest I wouldn’t have expected anything less from the man of means. The travel was much shorter than I thought it to be and we came to a stop in front of an abandoned looking warehouse. It was fairly desolate with little to no people around other than a few men that seemed to guard the area.

Moriarty led me through the place and eventually stopped at closed door. He looked at me before opening the top viewing hole of the locked door and I honestly didn’t know what to expect. One thing I would never in a million years guess was on the other side of that iron door. Looking through the opening I couldn’t believe my eyes and I back away from the door, my eyes traveling back to Moriarty who shut the viewing slot once again.

“Now that it is clear that I have something you want, if you do my bidding and manipulate the feelings of Sherlock Holmes to my liking you will earn what is behind this door and your return back to your time.”

“How do I know this is not a trick?” I counter dubiously.

“I will release them to your custody of course. I do have faith that you will hold up your end of the bargain because you know if you do not it will end in not only your death but theirs as well.”

“Okay, release him.”

“I shall check in with you, adieu,” Moriarty smirks before walking away. It was then I realized I wouldn’t be getting a ride anywhere as the others left as well. Waiting until they were gone I opened the heavy iron door that was sprinkled with rust. First of all I wanted to be sure that it was truly who I thought it was and secondly I wanted nothing more than to hug them tightly. There is nothing like someone familiar when everything seems so foreign and chaotic. Regardless of the past, somehow it brought me relief. It seemed impossible but because I had wanted it to be true, I did not question it.