Love never dies | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter X ~ The Marquess Case

   For the first time in more than ten years, my sleep was sweetened by hope, excitement, and fervor. My dreams were blessed with wonderful memories and visions of the future that filled my heart with the unbridled thrill of love, all centered on the one who rocked my world and showed me how charming he could be in a few days. 

   I was a lark among the clouds during the classes, nothing could change my uplifting mood that delighted my soul and made me feel like I was stepping on flowers at every move. 

   During my lunch break I returned home, where, once the ephemerality of the moment faded from the enchantment, thoughts and doubts made their way into my mind. 

   Sherlock made no sign. Even though it is too early for a conclusion, there is a bitter possibility that he will regret his rash actions and disappear from my life again without a trace. 

   What would I do if I was fooled by his charms again, if he only made me fall into the web of love that I have for him and his intentions were different? 

   I finish my lunch, clean my dishes, arrange some stray sheet music on the floor, but nothing stops my dark wave of doubt. 

   Loud knocking echoes through the walls of the house, and I am gripped by sudden anticipation. Hope storms over wavering thoughts, both fighting for supreme dominance. Adjusting my dress and glancing fleetingly in the hall mirror, I walk towards the sound. 

   On the other side of the door, cane in left hand, dark circles under his eyes, but a gentle look, and messy hair, sat Sherlock, who murmured a hello into his beard and walked past me, making his way to the living room couch and leaving me puzzled with my hand on the solid wood. 

   -Good afternoon, Sherlock, welcome, take a seat, make yourself at home! I sneer, stumbling after him with a shiver of disappointment draining my enthusiasm. 

   -Come on, Liz, we've long passed the formalities, he says tiredly. I have news. 

   My mind wanders to Enola, though I can't help but notice how grumpy Sherlock is when he's tired. 

   -What happened? Everything is okay? I rush. 

   -I have clarified the case of the Marquis! Unintentionally, of course, but I did it. 

   So that's his objective? Is he trying to humiliate me by ignoring what happened the night before? I dare not show any sort of displeasure or remorse, so I pursue his subject. 

   -And what is your verdict? I ask, sitting next to him on the couch. 

   -The uncle wants to kill the boy, just like he killed his father, he says, resting his head on one of the pillows. Political interests. The boy would take his place in the house of lords, and if he died, the uncle would inherit the title. He has every reason. 

   -Very ingenious, Sherlock, I comment, but I sink into my own suspicions. However, if I may... 

   -What? Don't you think I'm right? he snapped, lifting his head and looking me in the eye. 

   The memory of his lips over mine clouds my reason, but I try to ignore the distraction and focus on the Marquis. 

   -The story seems a bit far-fetched... 

   -In what sense? 

   -I don't know, for example... Why didn't the uncle kill his brother before he had a son? It would have been much more practical. 

   -You say? Sherlock muttered, staring at the decorative plant in the corner, visibly lost in thought. I didn't sleep all night and came to the wrong conclusion.