Love never dies | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter XI ~ Dinner

   Sherlock gallantly opens the door of the restaurant where we were to have dinner, not before exchanging approving glances with some people in plainclothes who I think are the police he was talking about. 

   He leads me to a table in the center of the great room adorned with Victorian corollas. The walls covered in olive wallpaper give the place an elegant and welcoming look, the chairs upholstered with velvet and mother-of-pearl material and the tables with faces loaded with golden flowers harmoniously complete the entire color range. 

   Sherlock helps me sit, then takes his own seat, scanning the room in detail. I follow his eyes to a mature woman with a long face, pale complexion and a ruby necklace matching the blood-red dress. She was visibly nervous, her cheeks quivering and her fingers fidgeting with anxiety, and she looked very familiar to me. 

   -She is Baron Gordon's widow, he informs me. She hired me to find her husband's killer. 

   -That's why she seems familiar to me... She was close to my mother. Se visited us often when I was little. And? I ask, scrolling through the menu. You found him? 

   -After an unpleasant search among affairs, jealousies and unrequited loves, I deduced the motive and the perpetrator of the crime. 

   -How interesting! I get excited. I've always liked love murders. 

   His stunned look makes me chuckle, then I realize the unintended connotation of my words. 

   -In the books, I mean. Where it is pure fiction. 

   I see him breathe a sigh of relief and am filled with indignation at his hasty conclusions. 

   -Did you really think I had become an unscrupulous sadist? I ask. 

   -You would have amazed me more than never before, he jokes. Time changes us, whether we like it or not, and I hate how much I've lost away from you. 

   I smile knowingly and reach my hand across the table, and he takes it and caresses it gently. 

   We order, and I declare with amazement that the food here is delicious. The baked beef conquers my taste buds, and the garnish of roasted carrots harmonizes the sweet and salty. 

   Sherlock's gaze is distracted by the sound of the door, and a tall man with shoulder-length, meticulously styled hair and small eyes framed by a brunette beard makes his way towards the woman in red. 

   Although restless, the woman hides her emotions under the mask of acting, appearing delighted when the man kisses her hand. They sat down together and began to talk under our gaze. 

   -My favorite moment is coming, Sherlock murmured. 

   -What I would prefer would be a series of clarifications, I reproach him. 

   -Of course, miss, he smiles at me. At this point, the baroness confronts him with the truth. He confesses everything with the police by his side. It won't take long for him to click. 

   -Does this plan belong to you? I raise an eyebrow. 

   -It's possible, yes. 

   -So you came up with the idea of putting the poor woman in danger? I panic, shifting nervously in my seat. If it acts before he is stopped? 

   -Stay calm, he says gently, grabbing my hand across the table and tracing circles with his thumb over the smooth skin. 

   We continue to look at the murderer and the baroness. I can sense the anger rising in his chaste features and see him clench the tablecloth in his fists. The baroness rocked back in her chair and the man, his face burning with pure anger, stormed towards her, yanking her hand away and lifting her from the chair.