Categories > Books > Sherlock Holmes
Running as fast as she could down the corridor of the massive house, she prayed they wouldn't have started eating lunch yet. This would be the third time this week that she would be late again.
As she ran she failed to notice that the door to the enormous library room opened, and just as she ran past it a man came out and they collided into each other. She literally smacked to his side and they both fell down with an Oomph! -sound.
Sandra quickly recovered and propped herself to her hands. "I'm awfully sorry, sir, I did not see you coming and.."
The man beneath her moved his gaze upon her and she felt herself like a lab specimen of some sort. She thought that the grey eyes almost looked straight through her. He had dark hair, which was neatly done, although couple black strands were in disarray at the moment. She recognised him as Victor's friend, for he had told her he would bring a friend with him to home.
"My dear lady, where an earth do you have such a hurry that you don't even look around you?" he asked and got up from the floor, helping her up too. His voice gave her a hint that he had been living in London for all his life, and that he had studied long, for it sounded like he chooses his words carefully and announces them neatly.
"I am late for lunch. Yet again.." she said and blushed in embarrassment. "Ah, it appears we have the same problem. I was on my way to the dining room myself. I was so interested in some of the books I didn't notice the time" he told her, and then offered her his arm, "Shall we go together?"
She smiled up at him, for he was a tall man, and linked her arm with his. "Forgive me Miss, but I do fear I have not had the chance to hear your name yet" he said as they walked down the stairs.
"Oh, how rude of me! Sandra Berman is my name, sir " she answered to him. He nodded but didn't look at her. "And I am Sherlock Holmes, friend of Victor's. It's nice to meet your acquaintance Miss Berman"
She smiled coyishly at him, and was about to answer to him when the sound of Victor calling his name interrupted her.
"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holm.. Oh, there you are! And Sandra too!" he exclaimed as he saw them both, "The dinner is ready"
**
The dance was an idea of Mr. Trevor senior. Since both his son and Mr. Holmes were to be here for the whole summer, he thought it would be a good idea to try and get some company for the "boys", as he often called them.
Sandra had mingled among the quests for quite some time of the evening and she was feeling tired of it. Most of the single men's of the party had taken to ask her to dance with them, or just tied to get her interested in them. She had kindly refused them all. She hadn't come to England to get herself into a relationship. She would soon leave back to America and start her medical studies. Sipping her champagne, she let her eyes wander through the dance floor and the guests.
She saw Victor and Mr. Holmes talk with some lady who had a dress which neckline was so open Sandra found herself thinking when the dress would fall off from her.
She sighed, placed her champagne class to the tray of a passing-by waiter and went outside. There were some young couples kissing, laughing or just sitting and gazing at the clear night sky. She passed them all, to some she nodded and smiled or wished a good night. Stepping down the remainder of steps of the large stone stairs she went to the right, and straight to the garden. It was silent over there, only the water fountain made peaceful sounds as she made her way to the small, white painted bower. Sitting down she closed her eyes and just relaxed.
The sound of someone lighting a match startled her and she opened her eyes. Mr. Holmes was standing near the bower, lighting his cigarette.
"Miss Berman" he said and made a small bow at her direction. "Mr. Holmes" she answered to him neutrally, "What brings you here?"
"I felt crowded, and," he said, coming inside the bower, "I wanted to smoke." Sandra felt a smile tugging her lips, "I see" She turned her head to look over the lake. On the opposite shore a white horse was pulling a cart behind it. Sandra watched it until the horse had trotted away from her view.
"You are going to study medicine when you go back to America Miss Berman?" Holmes asked from beside her. She turned her eyes to him only to find him puffing away his cigarette. "Yes, I will. How did you know?" she asked, puzzled. Even the Trevor's didn't know that.
Holmes smiled. "You bandaged that wound like a nurse would do. And I also saw you getting couple medicine books from the library the other day" he answered casually and in the same time he threw the butt of the cigarette to the ground. Sandra chuckled. "Do you always observe your surroundings that accurately Mr. Holmes?"
"A hobby of mine Miss Berman"
"Well you are very good in it Mr. Holmes"
He turned his gaze upon her. His gaze was intense, and once again she felt as if he read her like an open book. His eyes were almost black in the darkness of the summer night, and she felt herself blush because of what she was thinking at that exact moment..
She turned her head away and got up. After a moment of hesitation she turned to face him again and offered her hand to him. "Would you dance with me Mr. Holmes?" she asked hesitantly, fearing that the answer would be a negative one. He eyed her for a while, and then stood up, taking her offered hand in his. "I would be delighted to" he answered in a low voice, and then he guided her out of the bower and onto the lawn of the garden. He turned to her, placing his hand to her hip and Sandra put her hand up to his shoulder while his other arm stretched out and waited for her hand to put upon it.
For a moment they waited to hear the music better and catch on it. Then he led her to the waltz. She closed her eyes and just marvelled the way their bodies swiftly moved to the sound of the music. Suddenly she came aware of the fact that Holmes was looking at her directly. She had always felt when someone was gazing at her direction, and now the burning feeling came from her companion.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. The grey eyes revealed nothing to her, but she could see that somewhere in that brilliant mind he was thinking about her. The surroundings ceased to exist in her mind, as the only thing she had eyes for was the man in front of her. She felt her heart beat a little faster, her breath caught in her throat and she quivered while looking at his grey eyes and feeling his body against hers. Holmes moved his hand a little closer to the small of her back and pushed her gently against him once more. Their eye contact never wavered.
"Hey, look who's here!!" Victor's voice shouted near them. The spell of the dance was broken and they let go of each other. As Holmes turned he saw his friend's drunken form. "Ooh Holmesy! You dancing with Sandra?" his voice slurred.
"I think it's better we get him inside and give him some coffee to get his head straight" Sandra said, now in control of her thoughts once again.
**
My last night at the Trevor's, Sandra thought as she put her nightgown on. The red silk pleats nicely to her skin, but the cold material made her flesh go to goose bumps. Tomorrow she would go to the train station, go to London and then leave to America on the morning ship. She wouldn't see England for at least six years after that.
But more importantly, she wouldn't see him on daily basis. Secretly she had wished that he would knee in front of her and ask her to marry him, but she knew that was all illusions of a woman fallen in love. To her, as well as to him, their studies were far more important at the moment. Of course there would be letters but it wouldn't be the same as the actual physical contact.
She tossed around in her bed and tried to think of other things, but she did poorly. She got up, frustrated, and went to one of the windows in her room. Opening the hatch she let the cold night air come into her room. It was at that moment she heard the wailing sounds of a violin. She listened to it for a while, tears in her eyes, for the music felt so lonesome and heartbreaking and she knew who was the one who played the instrument. At that moment she made up her mind. Silently closing the window, she picked up her robe and put it around her and tip toed to her room door. Carefully opening it, she peered to the corridor. After seeing that no-one was in her sight she closed the door and slowly started walking the corridor to the left side of the house.
When she finally came up to his door, she knocked on it silently. The music stopped and she could hear the low thumps of his legs as he walked to the door and opened it. His eyes went wide as he saw who was behind it, and quickly pushed her inside, turning to look that no-one was in sight like Sandra had done when she had left from her room. He slid the door shut silently and turned to her. She was hugging him tightly before he even had a proper chance to look at her.
"Miss Berman? Is everything alright?" he asked silently while he put his arms around her in turn. "No" she sobbed, her face buried to his robe. She could smell his cologne and tobacco from it, and it made her realize she would miss these moments with him. He tightened his hold on her, "Tell me", he whispered to her ear, and it made her skin go to goose bumps once more.
"I don't want to leave", she whispered while she snuggled her head under his chin, "from this house, from England. But more importantly," she turned her head and looked at him, "I don't want to leave you." It was at that moment Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who always had the same mask on, looked astonished. No woman before had said anything like that to him. In fact, there had never been a woman, for he had never found the opposite sex far too bright. Until now.
"Miss Berman.." he whispered, but Sandra put one of her fingers to his lips to stop him from saying more. "This night is all we have..", she said, her voice fading, "..together." Now Holmes knew why she had come, and the thought made his heart beat faster. He lowered his head and caught her lips to his own. Their lips were unsure as they moved. Her lips were warm and full, and she tasted like.. "Chocolate?" he inquired when they parted from each other, panting heavily. She smiled innocently at him.
She was the one who reached as their lips touched again. This time he deepened the kiss, and when he felt her tongue slid against his, he let all rational thoughts leave his mind. She wanted this woman. Had wanted from the day she had collided with him.
Her hands went down to the fabric belt and opened the knot. Sliding her hands inside the robe she felt that he had a cotton nightshirt and pants on. She put her hand inside the shirt and stroked his back. His skin felt warm and supple under her hand.
In the same time he opened her robe and slid it to the ground. He let his hands roam over her figure and he heard her sigh in delight. Her hands slid away his robe also, and he felt her hands starting to open up the buttons of his shirt. Once she had undid all the buttons she let her hand slid against his skin. He sighed and slid his tongue into her mouth.
It felt like the word ceased to exist, that there was nothing else but she and him, when their tongues slid against each other and savoured the taste. Her hands went to the collar of his shirt behind his back, and pushed the cotton material down. He took her arms around him to help get rid of the shirt and once it was floating to the floor he quickly pressed her body against his.
He could feel the hardened nipples of her breasts through the silk fabric. He let his hands wander down her figure and then up again, the same time bringing up the nightgown she had on. Once he reached to her armpits she put her hands high up in the air so he could get rid of the silk gown more easily. After he took it off he started kissing his way along her jaw and down her neck. Her naked body against his skin made him feel somewhat.. Powerful? Out of his mind? Maybe both, because he couldn't make his body to stop reacting to hers.
"Sherlock.." she whispered. Her voice was hoarse and she sighed in pleasure when he kissed her long and slow. She had called him by his Christian name, which was somewhat shocking to her, but he didn't say anything. In fact, it made him push against her even more.
Lifting her up to his arms he brought her to his bed and gently laid her down on the mattress after he had pushed the cover away. Slowly he moved on top of her. She moved her legs a part so he could get between them more easily. When he got down his erection brushed against her thigh and it made him cry out silently. She came up and quickly placed her swollen lips against his and ravaged his mouth. He put his arms around her once more and gently laid her back down, never broking the kiss they shared. Slowly he slid his other hand down her back and then in front of her, cupping his breast with his hand.
She moaned to his mouth when she felt his hand on her breast. His hand made circular moves and she thought she would come at any time. She slid her hands down his back and on to the waistband of his cotton pants and she pulled them downwards. He groaned when the material brushed against his growing erection.
He started kissing his way down her body. He stopped between her breasts and then kissed his way to her left breast and started licking her nipple. That owned him a moan of pleasure, and her hands moved to his hair to stroke and encourage a greater contact. Going to her right breast he did same thing as he had done to the left one. Sandra panted beneath him and he could feel her heart beat at a fast rhythm. He moved down again. He continued all the way down her thigh and when he had kissed the side of her knee he stopped, and pulled his pants off.
He came on top of her once again. This time she felt the full length of his erection against her thigh, and it made her gasp. They were both panting heavily now, and he looked her in the eyes. "Sandra.. Are you sure about this?" he asked huskily. She tugged couple black strands of his hair back behind his ear before replying. "Yes, Sherlock" she whispered back and came up to meet him in another kiss of passion.
Positioning himself he felt her legs coming apart to grant him a better access. Lowering himself, he helped with his hand to enter her. She hissed when she felt him enter and arched her back against him. Moving slowly he felt his erection go inside her all the way. For a moment he didn't move at all. He just placed his hands around his back and brought his lips to hers for a deep kiss. After a while he could feel her relaxing and starting to wriggle beneath him. That's when he started slowly to move inside her.
**
The Annabelle was a huge ship. When Sandra got out of the carriage, she found herself thinking that maybe she shouldn't have left without saying goodbye to Sherlock. But it was too late now.
She had waited long enough. And this was something she had to do. "Miss?" the voice of the driver asked and she turned to face him, "Do I take your luggage to the place where they load the ship?"
"Yes, please. And here is your money" she answered, not in the least excited about the fact that she had to leave. "Thank you Miss" the man said and smacked to his horse to get her things in time to the loading dock.
Sandra went to the line where people were gathering to show their tickets and then board the ship. She showed her ticket and moved on. While she was waiting the people in front to get organized to board she heard a familiar voice shouting her name.
"Sandra!! Sandra!!"
She closed her eyes, then opened them and turned. Stories where the prince on his white horse came galloping to rescue the girl had been her favourite stories when she had been little. Now her 'dream' came true. Only that the man riding the horse wasn't really a prince, and the horse wasn't white either.
A black horse came galloping towards her, and Holmes was riding it. She felt her eyes dwell at the sight of the man whom she loved more than life itself came to a stop beside her. People scattered around from in front of the horse. He jumped off the horse and in one stride was facing her. He was panting from the heavy ride, and the horse's breast was covered in white foam.
"Sherlock..", she whispered but he interrupted him. "I can't believe you did that to me Sandra. You left without saying anything!" he told her angrily.
The people around them gave them weird glances but didn't say anything, just walked on. "Sherlock, please. I have to go back to America" she stated, not looking him in the eye. He put his thumb to her chin and lifted it put. Now she had to face him.
The tears were probably evident in her eyes, for Sherlock's expression softened at the sight of her. "Sandra.." he whispered and lowered his head to kiss her. She put one finger to his lips. "Promise me something Sherlock" she put her hand to his chin, "Promise me that.. That you'll wait for me." Holmes searched for a clue in her eyes, and she let him saw it. "Sandra.. Of course I'll wait for you" he answered and leaned in to kiss her.
The kiss was deeper than she liked, and she snatched away from him and walked up the bridge and boarded The Annabelle. She never looked back, for she knew she would break down at that moment. It was not until in her own room that she started to cry.
* *
Not a single letter had came from Sandra when we had boarded The Annabelle. Not knowing her address over in the States, Sherlock couldn't write a letter to her either. After a year had passed, he made an inquiry as to her whereabouts. Soon he got a telegram from a police inspector.
"..Coming to the United States, Miss Berman married a man named Hank Morris. Soon after she gave birth to a baby girl. Mr. Morris is from a wealthy family, but he is sometimes reported to have been drunk, violent and abusive to both people and animals.."
Sherlock dropped the telegram he had received a while ago. It felt like someone had shot him to the chest. The tightening feeling made him almost choke. He didn't know what to do now. Had he only been a summer crush for her? From that moment on, he decided not to trust another woman ever again, and to turn his interest only to his deductions and chemistry work.
He wanted to numb his pain. Knowing the cocaine bottle and the syringe were in the top drawer of his desk, he opened it..
* *
"How an earth do you know what Holmes?"
Lifting his gaze from the man who had passed their restaurant's window, Sherlock looked over the table at his friend's puzzled face. "Really Watson, it's pure elementary" he commented and sipped at his tea, "Why don't you try it on some passer-by Doctor?"
Hearing the hint of a battle from Holmes' voice Watson peered out of the window to spot a target for himself. Soon he saw a woman crossing the street to the other side. "Ok my dear chap. That lady who just crossed the street, with a deep green dress on and deep brown hair. She is maybe in her mid-thirties. Probably a foreigner because the dress is something women in London don't wear. And.. Hm.."
Sherlock finally turned his head so he could see the woman. As he did so, he found himself looking at Mrs. Sandra Morris, nee Berman. He felt a sudden turmoil of emotions around him. He wanted to run out and catch her up, but his legs felt glued to the floor. He could only rest his gaze on the sight of her.
As if she felt being watched, she stopped and looked around her shoulder. That's when she saw the two gentlemen watching her across the street. The older looking man quickly turned her gaze away, as if ashamed of being caught, but the other one.. He looked familiar and..
That's when she recognized him. She felt a sudden feeling of terror and indecision. She had wanted to see him, to feel him, for so many years.. But now as she finally saw him she got scared. She was sure he had made inquiries of her, and probably knew by now what had happened. Later ashamed of what she did, she ran to the nearest cabby as fast as she could.
*
A loud BANG of the door jolted her off her thoughts. "Mother?" she called, and soon her mother came in to the library. She saw that her mother was panting a little, and got worried. "Mama, is something wrong? You look sick."
Her mother put up a cheerful smile. "I'm.. I'm fine my dear. I just need to rest for a while. Tell the maid to bring me some tea when you see her." After that her mother left and closed herself to her own bedroom. Puzzled at her mother's demeanour, she picked up the violin her mother had bought her when she had been just six and started to play.
The lonely melody made her thought of her past. When she was a little girl, she was quickly sent to a boarding school in Boston. Being able to start her studies a year before everyone else, she very often felt lonely and as if her parents didn't want her to be near them. The school she had been in was a very good one, and the costs must have been handsome also.
It was not that she would have missed her father, she didn't, but her mother had always been very dear to her. Their trips to foreign countries during her school vacations had always been lovely, and she only had good memories from those. Her father never came with them. He always stayed home and drank as much as he could. It was a miracle he wasn't dead already.
Very often she had seen bruises on her mother's legs, arms and neck. Those had made her mad, but her mother had reassured her that she didn't have to worry about her, that everything would be alright. But just three weeks ago, something had happened that made her mother take her daughter with her and leave the United States.
Her father had been very drunk that day, and in a very foul mood of course. He was arguing with mother again, and had tried to strike her with a club. Their daughter had come between them and taken the club from her father. "Don't you dare hit her!" she had screamed and thrown the club as far as she could. Her father had gone mad and had strike her instead of her mother.
------------------------
And that's how it starts..
The End
As she ran she failed to notice that the door to the enormous library room opened, and just as she ran past it a man came out and they collided into each other. She literally smacked to his side and they both fell down with an Oomph! -sound.
Sandra quickly recovered and propped herself to her hands. "I'm awfully sorry, sir, I did not see you coming and.."
The man beneath her moved his gaze upon her and she felt herself like a lab specimen of some sort. She thought that the grey eyes almost looked straight through her. He had dark hair, which was neatly done, although couple black strands were in disarray at the moment. She recognised him as Victor's friend, for he had told her he would bring a friend with him to home.
"My dear lady, where an earth do you have such a hurry that you don't even look around you?" he asked and got up from the floor, helping her up too. His voice gave her a hint that he had been living in London for all his life, and that he had studied long, for it sounded like he chooses his words carefully and announces them neatly.
"I am late for lunch. Yet again.." she said and blushed in embarrassment. "Ah, it appears we have the same problem. I was on my way to the dining room myself. I was so interested in some of the books I didn't notice the time" he told her, and then offered her his arm, "Shall we go together?"
She smiled up at him, for he was a tall man, and linked her arm with his. "Forgive me Miss, but I do fear I have not had the chance to hear your name yet" he said as they walked down the stairs.
"Oh, how rude of me! Sandra Berman is my name, sir " she answered to him. He nodded but didn't look at her. "And I am Sherlock Holmes, friend of Victor's. It's nice to meet your acquaintance Miss Berman"
She smiled coyishly at him, and was about to answer to him when the sound of Victor calling his name interrupted her.
"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holm.. Oh, there you are! And Sandra too!" he exclaimed as he saw them both, "The dinner is ready"
**
The dance was an idea of Mr. Trevor senior. Since both his son and Mr. Holmes were to be here for the whole summer, he thought it would be a good idea to try and get some company for the "boys", as he often called them.
Sandra had mingled among the quests for quite some time of the evening and she was feeling tired of it. Most of the single men's of the party had taken to ask her to dance with them, or just tied to get her interested in them. She had kindly refused them all. She hadn't come to England to get herself into a relationship. She would soon leave back to America and start her medical studies. Sipping her champagne, she let her eyes wander through the dance floor and the guests.
She saw Victor and Mr. Holmes talk with some lady who had a dress which neckline was so open Sandra found herself thinking when the dress would fall off from her.
She sighed, placed her champagne class to the tray of a passing-by waiter and went outside. There were some young couples kissing, laughing or just sitting and gazing at the clear night sky. She passed them all, to some she nodded and smiled or wished a good night. Stepping down the remainder of steps of the large stone stairs she went to the right, and straight to the garden. It was silent over there, only the water fountain made peaceful sounds as she made her way to the small, white painted bower. Sitting down she closed her eyes and just relaxed.
The sound of someone lighting a match startled her and she opened her eyes. Mr. Holmes was standing near the bower, lighting his cigarette.
"Miss Berman" he said and made a small bow at her direction. "Mr. Holmes" she answered to him neutrally, "What brings you here?"
"I felt crowded, and," he said, coming inside the bower, "I wanted to smoke." Sandra felt a smile tugging her lips, "I see" She turned her head to look over the lake. On the opposite shore a white horse was pulling a cart behind it. Sandra watched it until the horse had trotted away from her view.
"You are going to study medicine when you go back to America Miss Berman?" Holmes asked from beside her. She turned her eyes to him only to find him puffing away his cigarette. "Yes, I will. How did you know?" she asked, puzzled. Even the Trevor's didn't know that.
Holmes smiled. "You bandaged that wound like a nurse would do. And I also saw you getting couple medicine books from the library the other day" he answered casually and in the same time he threw the butt of the cigarette to the ground. Sandra chuckled. "Do you always observe your surroundings that accurately Mr. Holmes?"
"A hobby of mine Miss Berman"
"Well you are very good in it Mr. Holmes"
He turned his gaze upon her. His gaze was intense, and once again she felt as if he read her like an open book. His eyes were almost black in the darkness of the summer night, and she felt herself blush because of what she was thinking at that exact moment..
She turned her head away and got up. After a moment of hesitation she turned to face him again and offered her hand to him. "Would you dance with me Mr. Holmes?" she asked hesitantly, fearing that the answer would be a negative one. He eyed her for a while, and then stood up, taking her offered hand in his. "I would be delighted to" he answered in a low voice, and then he guided her out of the bower and onto the lawn of the garden. He turned to her, placing his hand to her hip and Sandra put her hand up to his shoulder while his other arm stretched out and waited for her hand to put upon it.
For a moment they waited to hear the music better and catch on it. Then he led her to the waltz. She closed her eyes and just marvelled the way their bodies swiftly moved to the sound of the music. Suddenly she came aware of the fact that Holmes was looking at her directly. She had always felt when someone was gazing at her direction, and now the burning feeling came from her companion.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. The grey eyes revealed nothing to her, but she could see that somewhere in that brilliant mind he was thinking about her. The surroundings ceased to exist in her mind, as the only thing she had eyes for was the man in front of her. She felt her heart beat a little faster, her breath caught in her throat and she quivered while looking at his grey eyes and feeling his body against hers. Holmes moved his hand a little closer to the small of her back and pushed her gently against him once more. Their eye contact never wavered.
"Hey, look who's here!!" Victor's voice shouted near them. The spell of the dance was broken and they let go of each other. As Holmes turned he saw his friend's drunken form. "Ooh Holmesy! You dancing with Sandra?" his voice slurred.
"I think it's better we get him inside and give him some coffee to get his head straight" Sandra said, now in control of her thoughts once again.
**
My last night at the Trevor's, Sandra thought as she put her nightgown on. The red silk pleats nicely to her skin, but the cold material made her flesh go to goose bumps. Tomorrow she would go to the train station, go to London and then leave to America on the morning ship. She wouldn't see England for at least six years after that.
But more importantly, she wouldn't see him on daily basis. Secretly she had wished that he would knee in front of her and ask her to marry him, but she knew that was all illusions of a woman fallen in love. To her, as well as to him, their studies were far more important at the moment. Of course there would be letters but it wouldn't be the same as the actual physical contact.
She tossed around in her bed and tried to think of other things, but she did poorly. She got up, frustrated, and went to one of the windows in her room. Opening the hatch she let the cold night air come into her room. It was at that moment she heard the wailing sounds of a violin. She listened to it for a while, tears in her eyes, for the music felt so lonesome and heartbreaking and she knew who was the one who played the instrument. At that moment she made up her mind. Silently closing the window, she picked up her robe and put it around her and tip toed to her room door. Carefully opening it, she peered to the corridor. After seeing that no-one was in her sight she closed the door and slowly started walking the corridor to the left side of the house.
When she finally came up to his door, she knocked on it silently. The music stopped and she could hear the low thumps of his legs as he walked to the door and opened it. His eyes went wide as he saw who was behind it, and quickly pushed her inside, turning to look that no-one was in sight like Sandra had done when she had left from her room. He slid the door shut silently and turned to her. She was hugging him tightly before he even had a proper chance to look at her.
"Miss Berman? Is everything alright?" he asked silently while he put his arms around her in turn. "No" she sobbed, her face buried to his robe. She could smell his cologne and tobacco from it, and it made her realize she would miss these moments with him. He tightened his hold on her, "Tell me", he whispered to her ear, and it made her skin go to goose bumps once more.
"I don't want to leave", she whispered while she snuggled her head under his chin, "from this house, from England. But more importantly," she turned her head and looked at him, "I don't want to leave you." It was at that moment Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who always had the same mask on, looked astonished. No woman before had said anything like that to him. In fact, there had never been a woman, for he had never found the opposite sex far too bright. Until now.
"Miss Berman.." he whispered, but Sandra put one of her fingers to his lips to stop him from saying more. "This night is all we have..", she said, her voice fading, "..together." Now Holmes knew why she had come, and the thought made his heart beat faster. He lowered his head and caught her lips to his own. Their lips were unsure as they moved. Her lips were warm and full, and she tasted like.. "Chocolate?" he inquired when they parted from each other, panting heavily. She smiled innocently at him.
She was the one who reached as their lips touched again. This time he deepened the kiss, and when he felt her tongue slid against his, he let all rational thoughts leave his mind. She wanted this woman. Had wanted from the day she had collided with him.
Her hands went down to the fabric belt and opened the knot. Sliding her hands inside the robe she felt that he had a cotton nightshirt and pants on. She put her hand inside the shirt and stroked his back. His skin felt warm and supple under her hand.
In the same time he opened her robe and slid it to the ground. He let his hands roam over her figure and he heard her sigh in delight. Her hands slid away his robe also, and he felt her hands starting to open up the buttons of his shirt. Once she had undid all the buttons she let her hand slid against his skin. He sighed and slid his tongue into her mouth.
It felt like the word ceased to exist, that there was nothing else but she and him, when their tongues slid against each other and savoured the taste. Her hands went to the collar of his shirt behind his back, and pushed the cotton material down. He took her arms around him to help get rid of the shirt and once it was floating to the floor he quickly pressed her body against his.
He could feel the hardened nipples of her breasts through the silk fabric. He let his hands wander down her figure and then up again, the same time bringing up the nightgown she had on. Once he reached to her armpits she put her hands high up in the air so he could get rid of the silk gown more easily. After he took it off he started kissing his way along her jaw and down her neck. Her naked body against his skin made him feel somewhat.. Powerful? Out of his mind? Maybe both, because he couldn't make his body to stop reacting to hers.
"Sherlock.." she whispered. Her voice was hoarse and she sighed in pleasure when he kissed her long and slow. She had called him by his Christian name, which was somewhat shocking to her, but he didn't say anything. In fact, it made him push against her even more.
Lifting her up to his arms he brought her to his bed and gently laid her down on the mattress after he had pushed the cover away. Slowly he moved on top of her. She moved her legs a part so he could get between them more easily. When he got down his erection brushed against her thigh and it made him cry out silently. She came up and quickly placed her swollen lips against his and ravaged his mouth. He put his arms around her once more and gently laid her back down, never broking the kiss they shared. Slowly he slid his other hand down her back and then in front of her, cupping his breast with his hand.
She moaned to his mouth when she felt his hand on her breast. His hand made circular moves and she thought she would come at any time. She slid her hands down his back and on to the waistband of his cotton pants and she pulled them downwards. He groaned when the material brushed against his growing erection.
He started kissing his way down her body. He stopped between her breasts and then kissed his way to her left breast and started licking her nipple. That owned him a moan of pleasure, and her hands moved to his hair to stroke and encourage a greater contact. Going to her right breast he did same thing as he had done to the left one. Sandra panted beneath him and he could feel her heart beat at a fast rhythm. He moved down again. He continued all the way down her thigh and when he had kissed the side of her knee he stopped, and pulled his pants off.
He came on top of her once again. This time she felt the full length of his erection against her thigh, and it made her gasp. They were both panting heavily now, and he looked her in the eyes. "Sandra.. Are you sure about this?" he asked huskily. She tugged couple black strands of his hair back behind his ear before replying. "Yes, Sherlock" she whispered back and came up to meet him in another kiss of passion.
Positioning himself he felt her legs coming apart to grant him a better access. Lowering himself, he helped with his hand to enter her. She hissed when she felt him enter and arched her back against him. Moving slowly he felt his erection go inside her all the way. For a moment he didn't move at all. He just placed his hands around his back and brought his lips to hers for a deep kiss. After a while he could feel her relaxing and starting to wriggle beneath him. That's when he started slowly to move inside her.
**
The Annabelle was a huge ship. When Sandra got out of the carriage, she found herself thinking that maybe she shouldn't have left without saying goodbye to Sherlock. But it was too late now.
She had waited long enough. And this was something she had to do. "Miss?" the voice of the driver asked and she turned to face him, "Do I take your luggage to the place where they load the ship?"
"Yes, please. And here is your money" she answered, not in the least excited about the fact that she had to leave. "Thank you Miss" the man said and smacked to his horse to get her things in time to the loading dock.
Sandra went to the line where people were gathering to show their tickets and then board the ship. She showed her ticket and moved on. While she was waiting the people in front to get organized to board she heard a familiar voice shouting her name.
"Sandra!! Sandra!!"
She closed her eyes, then opened them and turned. Stories where the prince on his white horse came galloping to rescue the girl had been her favourite stories when she had been little. Now her 'dream' came true. Only that the man riding the horse wasn't really a prince, and the horse wasn't white either.
A black horse came galloping towards her, and Holmes was riding it. She felt her eyes dwell at the sight of the man whom she loved more than life itself came to a stop beside her. People scattered around from in front of the horse. He jumped off the horse and in one stride was facing her. He was panting from the heavy ride, and the horse's breast was covered in white foam.
"Sherlock..", she whispered but he interrupted him. "I can't believe you did that to me Sandra. You left without saying anything!" he told her angrily.
The people around them gave them weird glances but didn't say anything, just walked on. "Sherlock, please. I have to go back to America" she stated, not looking him in the eye. He put his thumb to her chin and lifted it put. Now she had to face him.
The tears were probably evident in her eyes, for Sherlock's expression softened at the sight of her. "Sandra.." he whispered and lowered his head to kiss her. She put one finger to his lips. "Promise me something Sherlock" she put her hand to his chin, "Promise me that.. That you'll wait for me." Holmes searched for a clue in her eyes, and she let him saw it. "Sandra.. Of course I'll wait for you" he answered and leaned in to kiss her.
The kiss was deeper than she liked, and she snatched away from him and walked up the bridge and boarded The Annabelle. She never looked back, for she knew she would break down at that moment. It was not until in her own room that she started to cry.
* *
Not a single letter had came from Sandra when we had boarded The Annabelle. Not knowing her address over in the States, Sherlock couldn't write a letter to her either. After a year had passed, he made an inquiry as to her whereabouts. Soon he got a telegram from a police inspector.
"..Coming to the United States, Miss Berman married a man named Hank Morris. Soon after she gave birth to a baby girl. Mr. Morris is from a wealthy family, but he is sometimes reported to have been drunk, violent and abusive to both people and animals.."
Sherlock dropped the telegram he had received a while ago. It felt like someone had shot him to the chest. The tightening feeling made him almost choke. He didn't know what to do now. Had he only been a summer crush for her? From that moment on, he decided not to trust another woman ever again, and to turn his interest only to his deductions and chemistry work.
He wanted to numb his pain. Knowing the cocaine bottle and the syringe were in the top drawer of his desk, he opened it..
* *
"How an earth do you know what Holmes?"
Lifting his gaze from the man who had passed their restaurant's window, Sherlock looked over the table at his friend's puzzled face. "Really Watson, it's pure elementary" he commented and sipped at his tea, "Why don't you try it on some passer-by Doctor?"
Hearing the hint of a battle from Holmes' voice Watson peered out of the window to spot a target for himself. Soon he saw a woman crossing the street to the other side. "Ok my dear chap. That lady who just crossed the street, with a deep green dress on and deep brown hair. She is maybe in her mid-thirties. Probably a foreigner because the dress is something women in London don't wear. And.. Hm.."
Sherlock finally turned his head so he could see the woman. As he did so, he found himself looking at Mrs. Sandra Morris, nee Berman. He felt a sudden turmoil of emotions around him. He wanted to run out and catch her up, but his legs felt glued to the floor. He could only rest his gaze on the sight of her.
As if she felt being watched, she stopped and looked around her shoulder. That's when she saw the two gentlemen watching her across the street. The older looking man quickly turned her gaze away, as if ashamed of being caught, but the other one.. He looked familiar and..
That's when she recognized him. She felt a sudden feeling of terror and indecision. She had wanted to see him, to feel him, for so many years.. But now as she finally saw him she got scared. She was sure he had made inquiries of her, and probably knew by now what had happened. Later ashamed of what she did, she ran to the nearest cabby as fast as she could.
*
A loud BANG of the door jolted her off her thoughts. "Mother?" she called, and soon her mother came in to the library. She saw that her mother was panting a little, and got worried. "Mama, is something wrong? You look sick."
Her mother put up a cheerful smile. "I'm.. I'm fine my dear. I just need to rest for a while. Tell the maid to bring me some tea when you see her." After that her mother left and closed herself to her own bedroom. Puzzled at her mother's demeanour, she picked up the violin her mother had bought her when she had been just six and started to play.
The lonely melody made her thought of her past. When she was a little girl, she was quickly sent to a boarding school in Boston. Being able to start her studies a year before everyone else, she very often felt lonely and as if her parents didn't want her to be near them. The school she had been in was a very good one, and the costs must have been handsome also.
It was not that she would have missed her father, she didn't, but her mother had always been very dear to her. Their trips to foreign countries during her school vacations had always been lovely, and she only had good memories from those. Her father never came with them. He always stayed home and drank as much as he could. It was a miracle he wasn't dead already.
Very often she had seen bruises on her mother's legs, arms and neck. Those had made her mad, but her mother had reassured her that she didn't have to worry about her, that everything would be alright. But just three weeks ago, something had happened that made her mother take her daughter with her and leave the United States.
Her father had been very drunk that day, and in a very foul mood of course. He was arguing with mother again, and had tried to strike her with a club. Their daughter had come between them and taken the club from her father. "Don't you dare hit her!" she had screamed and thrown the club as far as she could. Her father had gone mad and had strike her instead of her mother.
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And that's how it starts..
The End
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