Though she knew Sherlock’s words to be true, she felt reluctant to break the connection with Moriarty. Aside from the benefit to knowing what one’s enemy was up to, she hated to admit that she enjoyed Moriarty’s company.
No doubt the same way Sherlock enjoyed his cocaine.
“The last time I went to see the professor, it was to gain entrance into the workhouse for your case, Mr. Holmes.”
“Where you almost died and I was injured.”
“We did solve the case. Please don’t dismiss me from my position, Mr. Holmes.”
“But the case isn’t the only reason you see Moriarty, is it, Miss Hudson?”
“I don’t suppose so.” She shook her head.
“There are other ways to learn science, Miss Belle.”
How does Sherlock always know everything?
“I am quite serious. This association is a threat to me.” His expression had a severity which made her wish to sit down. “And to you.”
She swallowed hard. “To you more so than me.”
“Why do you wish to hold onto this liaison?” he asked softly.
“I’m not sure I know the entire answer to that question,” she said truthfully. “I suppose the most important aspect is the intellectual stimulation.”
***
He frowned. “And are you so lacking in intellectual stimulation in my company?”
There were many areas where Sherlock did not feel up to the task of providing satisfaction, but the intellect had never been one of those arenas.
She suppressed a giggle, and it was quite becoming, as displeased as he was. “Of course not. I suppose I am greedy.” She grew serious. “But, honestly, Mr. Holmes, I believed I was assisting you and your work.”
Sherlock gave up attempting to command her. That had gotten nowhere. “What would it take to receive your assurance you will stay away from Moriarty, Miss Belle?”
“Do I still have a position?”
“Answer my question, please.”
Her lips quivered. “Perhaps if you stayed away from cocaine?”
“Of course.”
“And laudanum.”
He chuckled.
“Why do you laugh?”
In truth, he was astonished at her effrontery. She had thought of every angle and then been forward enough to propose it, even at the threat of her dismissal. “I am not an addict. I merely use drugs when I am bored—or waiting for a case.”
“You are an addict. Merely a high functioning addict.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t intended as one.”
He studied her. “So you will stop seeing Moriarty if I stop using cocaine?”
“Correct. And laudanum. And all related drugs.”
“I didn’t know you cared, Miss Hudson.”
“Certainly I do. Who is more intertwined with my life than you?”
He was startled by her words. Belle was certainly a significant part of his life, but he hadn’t expected her to reciprocate the sentiment.
“What do you say, Mr. Holmes?” she pressed.
Sherlock was already practically weaned from the drug. Watson had seen to that, pronouncing his habit to be “always present, but asleep.”
There was no need to pass that information on to Belle, particularly since it gave him the leverage to keep her out of Moriarty’s path.
“Agreed.”
“We have a deal then?” she asked hopefully.
“We do.”
She sighed heavily.
“What is the matter, Miss Belle?”
“It’s just that I will miss my conversations with the professor. About mathematics, that is.”
Sherlock placed an envelope on her desk. “Open it, Miss Belle.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
A Dream Come True
“Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth.” – Benjamin Disraeli
The return address read “The University of London.”
What on earth could it be?
She opened the letter frantically and began to read. We are pleased to accept your entrance into the University of London.
Her hands began to shake and she almost dropped the letter. “But I never applied. My application is still here.” Quickly she sprang to her desk in search of the application. “I can’t find it.”
“It might have been misplaced.” He stood up, moving to pour them each a sherry. “And I took the liberty of pulling some strings. I believe a celebration is in order.”
“Oh, Sherlock.” She rushed to hug him. With her arms around him, feeling his strong muscles under her hands, she felt a strange sensation. An excitement. A longing. He felt so solid, as if he were a person she could always depend upon.
His expression was stern as he looked down at her. “You shall have to work your classes around my schedule, you understand.”
“Of course.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I have my duties here.”
“And you must be rested when you come to work in the morning. I shall not allow sloppy work.”
“Naturally you would not.” There was a sadness in his delivery, in great contrast to the happiness she felt. “Why did you change your mind, Mr. Holmes?”
He released her, picked up his sherry, and downed it in one gulp. He poured himself another and handed a glass to her. “I didn’t.”
She studied him suspiciously as he returned to his seat. “Was it a ploy to remove me from the professor?”
“That I had already accomplished with my bargain. I had no need to give you the letter.”
“True. But it is better arranged according to your terms.” It was very wrong of her to tease him. She was simply elated and baffled at the same time, and she had a tendency to babble on at the best of times.
He stared at her with a stern expression, but his eyes were laughing. “So you can give me no credit for any good deed, Miss Hudson?”
“I can’t imagine you would do anything unless it suited one of your purposes, Mr. Holmes.”
His voice grew soft. “In that, you would be wrong, Belle. And I wish you would call me by my name.”
“Honestly, Sherlock,” she said softly. “It is the nicest thing anyone has every done for me.”
***
I did it because . . . because . . .
“I’m so grateful to you. It was very kind of you, Sherlock.” She returned to her seat with the glass of sherry.
“I expect it was. And a grand waste of time. You can learn everything you need to from books, from me, and in being out in the world. That path would be more honorable—and faster—than any degree. I don’t have a university degree. I merely pursued a course of study, and you must agree I am the most intelligent person you know.”
“Outside of Mycroft.” She giggled.
He felt a smile tugging on his lips. “Agreed.”
“At any rate, ladies have to work harder to prove themselves. Men are given respect from the outset, ladies have to earn it.”
“Do you honestly believe that a university degree will cause people to take you seriously, Miss Hudson?”
“It would certainly help.”
“I fear you delude yourself. You must pursue this course for the knowledge it will bestow and for no other reason.” Sherlock had many misgivings about Belle going to university. But it was what she wanted, and he had come to care about that. Even so, it would be a difficult path. “You must be aware, Miss Belle, there will be those throughout life who don’t want you to succeed. You will need to be prepared for that.”
“How can I possibly do that?”
“Contacts. Always necessary to success.”
“I have you. And Dr. Watson.”
“Naturally you’d wish to start with the best. But you may need encouragement from another woman, someone who understands your difficulties. I’ve arranged a meeting with Elizabeth Garrett Anderson.”
“Dr. Garrett?” she exclaimed. “The on
ly female doctor in Britain?”
“Indeed, Garrett found a loophole in the charter of the Society of Apothecaries by which they could not legally exclude her.”
“I told you the pharmacists are the most progressive medical group in England.” Mirabella raised her chin .
“They have since figured out how to do so,” Sherlock muttered. “The Society of Apothecaries immediately amended its regulations to prevent other women from obtaining a license. Garrett was literally the only woman who slipped through. So why bother pursuing that course of study?”
“If Dr. Garrett had taken that attitude, she wouldn’t be a practicing doctor.”
“In order to take the test to obtain the license, Garrett had to hire private tutors in anatomy and physiology because the male students had forced her out of the dissecting room and chemistry lectures. This is the welcome you too will receive, Belle.”
“Dr. Garrett will help me. As will you, I am sure.”
“Very likely,” he said softly.
“Moriarty said you didn’t want me to succeed, Sherlock. That you were afraid of losing me,” she said, her eyes alight with curiosity.
In that, he is correct. “Moriarty has a poison tongue and is a master manipulator.”
“And those are his good points,” she agreed.
“Speaking of Moriarty, his henchman saved your life. Does that not strike you as odd, Miss Hudson?”
She dreaded where this was going. Lord knows she had run this question round in her mind hundreds of times.
“I have no doubt one day Colonel Moran will attempt to put a bullet in my head. And yet he saved your life.” Sherlock added pointedly, “What have you done for Moriarty in return, Miss Hudson?”
“Well . . . I . . . I didn’t know what else to do. There were lives at stake. As it turned out, your brother Mycroft.”
“I repeat, what have you done?”
“It was a mere scientific idea.”
“An idea? Not a specific formula?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Is it an idea which represents great power?”
“Of course.” She bit her lip. “But I sent him down a convoluted path which should take years to unravel.”
“Let us hope he does not punish you for the diversion.” Sherlock shook his head in disapproval. “When will you learn not to fight fire with fire?”
“I shall follow your example, Sherlock.” She smirked.
He sighed. Once Belle got into university, there was no telling where it would take her. No doubt far from him. “As for university, I cannot control what you shall do with your newfound knowledge. I expect you will pursue an academic career.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “I can’t imagine ever leaving detective work. It is too exciting.”
He felt his mood soar. “Excellent news.”
“Just as I can’t imagine ever tiring of science.”
“It is our lot in life, is it not?” It was sometimes shocking how much alike they were.
But what of me, Belle? Will you ever tire of me? I expect you’ll meet some young man at this university of yours. My brain is strong, often to the exclusion of all else. There are those who believe my heart is stone, but, indeed I am a man and I do have one.
It is the most fearful thing I have ever encountered—more terrifying than the thought of losing my life.
But I find I love you, Belle.
“It is an exciting time in life for a young person,” he added.
“You’re not so very old, Sherlock.”
“I recall when you said quite the opposite.”
“You manage to get about, don’t you? Quite agile, actually.” She blushed. “You have a habit of growing on people, Sherlock.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Partners
“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” – Charles Dickens, “Great Expectations”
“Do I?” He felt a strange hope surge in his chest, unlike anything he had ever felt before. “In what way?”
She leaned in close, seated across from each other as they were. He could smell lavender and roses in her hair. “You know, for the longest time, I thought you were insufferable, Mr. Holmes.”
“Your words touch my heart, Miss Belle.”
“Naturally I respected you and appreciated the opportunity to learn from you. But you have always been . . . difficult.”
“I see.” This wasn’t what he had in mind.
“But now I feel completely different towards you.” She took his hand, and he didn’t attempt to remove it.
“Which is?”
“Sherlock, you’re . . .” her voice grew soft. “You’re my best friend.”
The hope that had been in his chest dashed even as he felt a surge through his arm with her touch. He made no attempt to smile, which could only have appeared false, as it was not felt.
Your friend. And yet you fall in love with every other man who comes into your vicinity.
She continued. “Everything good I have in my life has been from you, Sherlock.”
“I certainly haven’t done anything with that intent,” he said stiffly.
“Oh I know, it was all for your cases. And yet you have introduced me to every manner of person I would have considered derelict before I met you. Now I see them as human.”
“And you have seen some not so human individuals.” It felt strangely natural to be sitting here and touching hands as they spoke.
“Those as well. And people who are different from me whom I judged—who didn’t become real until I met them as individuals.”
“As in Mycroft?”
“Yes. A person with a heart and soul just like mine.” She sighed, withdrawing her hand and placing it on her cheek. “Though perhaps I am not as kind as some.”
“And you are pleased with this change, Miss Belle?”
“Naturally I am. I was blind before. I thought I knew everything—and, with you, I have learned I knew nothing.”
“Many have said the same.” He studied her. “And your religious views? How have you reconciled them to your revelations?”
“Jesus didn’t come that I might cease having a brain—but that I might gain a heart.”
“And the Bible?”
“The Bible speaks of the coming of the Holy Spirit, that we might have an ongoing relationship with God—who is not so frozen in time as we might imagine.” She sighed. “The purpose of religion is not to feel superior and protect the authorities in power. Jesus never protected the authorities.”
“No doubt the Christ would be repulsed by many of the organizations bearing his name.” He shook his head disdainfully.
As if in response, she added, “I cannot be expected to leave behind everything I was taught for the first nineteen years of my life.”
“Ah yes, family and church. I have observed young girls especially fear being outcast by either.”
“I am sorry the approval of your family has no meaning to you, Sherlock.”
“To the contrary. I am well aware what I owe my family. How could I not be? But not to the exclusion of logic.”
There was a long moment between them as they held each other’s gaze. Dash it all! How could he have so much trouble knowing—and understanding—the thoughts of someone who was so transparent?
“I only wish . . . I wish . . .”
“Yes, Miss Belle?” It seemed wishes were rampant on this day.
“I wish you wouldn’t be so critical of me. I do try my very best.”
“I have to be critical in order to keep you alive, Belle.” Because it would break my heart if something were to happen to you. Before I met you I was quite happy without a heart. He added softly, “None of us are invincible.”
“I never thought to hear you say that, Sherlock. Instead of your always bossing and criticizing me,” she smiled up at him, “I wish we could be partners.”
&nb
sp; In an instant he rose from his chair and pulled her abruptly from hers.
Before he could change his mind he took her in his arms and kissed her, kissed her with all the attraction he had felt for her from the moment of meeting her, an electrical charge he had fought with every ounce of his being, channeling into anger and distancing.
“So do I, Miss Belle,” he whispered in a gruff voice.
There was no distance now. He expected her to push against his muscular arms, but instead she looked into his eyes, her expression one of bewilderment.
Her eyes opened wide, disbelieving, and he felt like a fool. Above all, Sherlock hated to feel stupid.
The added rejection was gut-wrenching.
I’ve made a terrible mistake, forcing myself on Belle in an unwanted embrace.
What an idiot I am. How could I?
Because he had loved Belle almost from the moment of meeting her. He had watched her fall for every man but him.
Never in his life had he displayed the slightest inhibitions in anything, and, at almost thirty years of age he had found it suddenly necessary to hide his feelings, his inclinations, his very reactions from Belle.
And himself.
Kissing her was against his nature as well. I never let my emotions control me.
“Belle, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking . . .”
“I know, Sherlock. For a moment you weren’t thinking. I’ve never seen you throw logic to the wind before.”
That was a low blow. He didn’t think it was possible to feel any more disconcerted than he already did. Another state he detested: that of being out of control.
A slight smile formed on her lips. “I heartily approve.”
His heart soared, but he quickly chided himself. I mustn’t take it to mean more than it did. Belle was kind-hearted and forgiving, and she didn’t wish to hurt or reprimand him, though she must.
Sherlock had to be certain what she mean. He abhorred assumptions in all things. This was not the way of the scientist.
Data, I must have data.
“You what? You liked it but you’re sorry I kissed you, or you liked it but I should never have—”
As quickly as he had kissed her, she took his lapels in both her hands and pulled him to her— no small feat with a middle-weight boxing champion—planting her lips on his.
Sherlock Holmes and the Vampire Invasion Page 33