Chapter 11
The following day Sherlock arrived at Crimson Peak in the evening. After all, the Thomas Sharpe case wasn't his only case, and London wasn't a very safe place, for even today he was requested by Gregson and Lestrade in a robbery, following a lead that led them to the body. And almost as always, the detectives were at a loss. Yet there was so much evidence all around them pointing directly at the perpetrators. Sometimes the detective thought he might try to pray for the detectives so they could learn to watch better. Or that he would offer them lessons. But they were too stubborn and too proud for that. And their constant arguing over which one of them was right gave him a headache today. In fact, he was looking forward to the baronet.
When he reached the gates of Allerdale Hall, he found Thomas outside by his machine. He wore his work clothes, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He adjusted something on the machine, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and made one last check of the machine's modified schematics before covering one of the important panels.
„The work never seems to end here,” Sherlock said as he approached the Baronet.
„I must say I expected you sooner. My sister even made tea.”
„I stayed on the case. But I'm here now, and we can catch up on what I missed. Apart from the tea, that is. I'm not a big fan of wolfsbane and durman,” he laughed.
„Neither am I. However, you arrived just in time for the start. I have a feeling this time it will work,” he said proudly.
„I wouldn't miss it,” he replied. Thomas started the machine and stepped to Sherlock's side. Without knowing it, he unconsciously grabbed his arm. The machine started, breathing heavily at first, and looked as if it would stop again. But this time its heavy puffing and the roar of the engine slowly shifted to a contented whine, and the machine ran smoothly.
„Looks like it's finally working. Congratulations. I have to say, seeing it working properly, it's amazing. Revolutionary. I'm sure you'll make a dent in the world with this,” Sherlock said.
„It's all thanks to you,” said Thomas, looking sincerely into his eyes, which shone like a dozen small diamonds scattered into the night.
The Baronet took a tiny step closer to the detective and leaned slightly toward him. Before Sherlock could object, something along the lines of what if Lucille sees us, he already had Thomas's hungry lips on his own. This kiss was much more pleasant, tender and, most importantly, longer.
As they pulled away from each other, Sherlock quickly checked his surroundings. He was worried about what might happen if Lucille found out. From the look of her, she was very attached to her brother. Moreover, from the very beginning, she had tried to poison him. Now she would surely go straight for his throat until he lay underground.
„Don't worry, Lucille's practising the piano by now. Plus, he doesn't think you're coming today, since it's been so long,” Thomas said as if he knew what the detective was thinking. „How about we celebrate in the bedroom? Or in my workshop? There's a bed and Lucille doesn't go there,” he suggested.
„That's an excellent plan,” he cleared his throat. „We'll need wine to do it, though.”
„That won't be a problem,” he said, smiling and planting one small kiss on his cheek before they went inside.
Sherlock waited in the elevator before Thomas joined him with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Together they rode out to the workshop, where Thomas poured wine into glasses while Sherlock made room on the bed and sat down there, too. The baronet handed him a glass, and together they toasted to the working machine and them.
Without any of them waiting for the alcohol to kick in, they threw themselves into another kiss. But this time, they fought among themselves over the dominance of languages, which was eventually won by a detective. Meanwhile, their clever hands went to work unbuttoning each other's shirts. They threw the clothes to the ground. When they were nearly naked, Thomas pulled Sherlock into bed as the baronet lay beneath the detective. Again the lips joined, and this time Holmes found his way lower with little kisses. First along the jaw, slowly across the neck to the chest, where he paused at the nipples, which he gently kissed. He then proceeded to lower places. When he was at his waist, Thomas's hands stopped him as he pulled him back to his side to quell his hunger and his lips joined again.
Finally, in the heat of passion, they had a wonderful night together, having their very first lovemaking, which was unforgettable for both of them. Especially for a detective who never thought he'd end up in bed with his prime suspect in an even more suspicious place that sometimes gave him the creeps.
Sherlock slept contentedly in Thomas's arms afterwards, and his sleep was as peaceful and contented as it had been for a long time. The baronet, on the other hand, was resting with his eyes closed but fully conscious. After all that, he couldn't sleep and didn't want to. He didn't want to wake Sherlock, so he only imagined what might await them. What beautiful opportunities open up before them.
He was jolted out of his reverie by a blinding bolt of lightning that illuminated the room through only one small window. The thunder that followed was so deafening and terrifying that he wondered if his beloved hadn't woken up. That is, he wanted to think of Sherlock as his beloved. But he knew, after this strange phenomenon of nature, this singular lightning, that their paths would soon part, and he had very little time. The lightning bolt was a clear message that he would have to go home. A place he thought he wouldn't go back to. But if he delayed, his brother would be sent for him...
The following morning they sat alone in the kitchen, enjoying breakfast together over a cup of tea. One of the peculiarities of that morning was that they didn't see Lucille anywhere. Sherlock suggested that it was very likely that she was still asleep, but Thomas assured him the opposite, knowing that she regularly got up at dawn. It bothered the baronet a little. But not enough to go looking for her.
After breakfast, they returned to the attic to collect the rest of their clothes. Sherlock was buttoning his vest when he noticed the brooding expression of the baronet staring out the window. What he saw disturbed him greatly. Lucille as she walked swiftly across the yard along with a large knife. She always used that knife when she wanted to get rid of someone. That couldn't have been good. As if sensing that she had been followed, she looked around, and finally, her gaze went to the workshop. But Thomas was well hidden, so she couldn't see him properly. Her gaze troubled him. He had never seen her like this. Her eyes were full of madness. He sighed and walked over to a stack of plans and began to look for something in them.
„What are you looking for?” asked Sherlock, hugging him from behind. It wasn't the best hug though, since the baronet was much taller than he. It was better to be hugged like that by the baronet.
„Plans of the house,” he replied, busy. Sherlock was about to say something when the baronet spoke. „She's alive.”
„I beg your pardon?” he said.
„Edith. She's alive,” and he turned to the detective with one plan.
„I thought so,” he replied, watching as Thomas unfolded a plan that included a detailed description of the entire property, including secret rooms and an underground passageway.
„Edith is here,” and he pointed to a spot on the map. „Lucille thinks she's dead. If you go through here, you'll get there. You can climb out that way. That's the safest way out,” he explained, handing the detective the key. „That's the universal key to the entire house.”
„What about you?” he asked, though he suspected the answer and disagreed with it absolutely.
„In the meantime, I'll distract Lucille. I saw her from my window and I'm afraid of what she's capable of,” he replied.
„I won't let you face her alone. We'll stop Lucille and then we'll save Edith,” he suggested with desperate undertones.
„Please. This is the only way...” he begged, but before he said it, he kissed him. Sherlock looked away, knowing he wouldn't be persuaded.
„Alright. As soon as I help Edith, I'll come back for you,” he said, but even so, he was reluctant to leave him.
Sherlock immediately headed for the secret underground room Thomas had shown him. If he hadn't promised, he would have come for Edith later. Finally, he rescued her rather quickly, escorted her to the exit, gave her instructions on what to do, and promptly returned to the house.
According to the voices, he found them in a room in the attic where the furniture was still covered. He ran through the door just as Lucille, consumed by rage and jealousy, stabbed her brother twice in the shoulder while he tried to make peace with her. Finally, blinded by rage, she stabbed Thomas in the face, barely inches below his left eye. Thomas took a few steps back and collapsed into the chair behind him. Sherlock pulled out the gun he had hidden in his coat and fired twice. With absolute accuracy, he hit his target precisely. Lucille fell to the ground. He dropped the gun and ran to the baronet. He knelt beside him, not knowing what to do. Thomas, on the other hand, grabbed the knife and tried to get it out. The detective had to stop him immediately. Pulling it out would mean instant death.
„Just be careful. I wish Watson were here,” he said. He spoke quickly and tried to think of something, but any possibility meant total death. He was stumped, and he was sure of it.
„Who?” the baronet asked wearily.
„Doctor,” he replied simply, holding Thomas’s hand. He wasn't going to let go easily.
„You know, our time together may have been brief, but I have no regrets, and I am grateful for every moment we spent together. Even for what I've done in the past, because, if I hadn't, I never would have had the chance to know you. I don't want you to worry. My only regret is that I couldn't have known you even more,” he admitted with a faint smile.
„No, don't say that. We'll think of something,” he tried, knowing it was inevitable. Some would say he had no feelings. He might have been good at hiding them, but now he was an open book, tears welling up in his eyes. Thomas stroked his cheek before taking a deep breath. He's going to have regrets for a long time of his life for what he was planning to do, but it was necessary.
„If time had been kinder to us, we might have been closer,” he said weakly, before taking the handle of the knife and pulling it from the wound. It was incredibly painful for him, but so it was for the detective. This time he didn't try to stop him.
„Rest in peace,” he said between sobs, kissing the baronet on the forehead.
Suddenly he heard footsteps on the wooden stairs, and when he turned to see who it was, he saw a panting John in the doorway, his sabre drawn.
„Holmes... what happened here?” he asked, walking over to the detective. He quickly checked Lucille's body, which he had no intention of checking, since the injuries were precise and deadly. He walked over to the Baronet's body and checked his wounds. If it hadn't been for the wound in his face, he would have survived.
„Are you all right?” he asked the detective, putting a hand on his shoulder. He had never seen him like this. Sherlock merely shook his head. „I'm so sorry,” he said and waited until Holmes had calmed down enough to finally be able to walk. John led him to the door when Sherlock returned to the baronet, looked down at him and closed his eyes.
„Goodbye. May you find the peace you deserve,” he whispered, wiping tears from his sleeve and following John out of the house. Neither man was in the mood to say anything.
At the gate, Sherlock took one last look back at the place that had stirred so many emotions and memories. Something caught him off guard. Outside the door, he noticed a pale figure billowing hair and melting into space. At such a distance he could clearly tell that it was the ghost of Thomas. Thomas gave him one last look before dropping his gaze and disappearing into space.
John put his hand on his shoulder, and Sherlock looked away from the house, and together they entered the cab and rode away from Purple Hill. Two dead bodies weren't all that Sherlock left there. Holmes knew that his heart was also there.