Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Abominable Bride- Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Third POV

The owner of the voice comes into view. It is, as expected, Hooper, now with no moustache and with her hair in a more appropriate style for a woman. She is dressed in the same blue robe as the other women and is carrying her hood. "Marriage, position and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her abandoned and penniless."

"Hooper!"

"Holmes."

"For the record, Holmes, she didn't have me fooled." Watson mentions out loud. Holmes turns and stares at him. Watson smiles in a rather satisfied way. Then his gaze shifts and he stares in surprise as one of the women leans into view and waves cheekily at him. It is his maid. Watson looks a little awkward as Holmes smirks. Another woman steps forward.

Again she is very recognisable and her Irish accent confirms it. "Emilia thought that she'd found happiness with Ricoletti, but he was a brute too." Holmes turns to look at her as she spoke and his eyes have widened. "Emelia Ricoletti was our friend. You have no idea how that bastard treated her."

"But... The Bride, Holmes. We saw her."

"Yes, Watson, we did. But the sound of breaking glass? Not a window."

"Just an old theatrical trick. It's called Pepper's Ghost. A simple reflection, in glass, of a living breathing person. Their only mistake was breaking the glass when they removed it." Michelle analysed. "Look around you. This room is full of Brides. Once she had risen, anyone could be her." Holmes begins to pace around. "The avenging ghost, a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with malicious intent; A spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue. A league of furies awakened."

Holmes stops his pace and look towards the cult of women, Mary and Michelle in the room. Michelle in particular. "The women I... We have lied to, betrayed... The women we have ignored and disparaged. Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed." His gaze sharpens a little. "This is the work of a single minded person, someone who knew first-hand about Sir Eustace's mental cruelty. A dark secret, kept from all but her closest friends..."

Behind him, someone wearing the Bride's wedding dress and with the veil over their face walks into view. "Including Emelia Ricoletti..." The Bride slowly walks closer to him, footsteps sounding on the floor. "The woman her husband wronged all those years before. If one disregards the ghost, there is only one suspect." He turns towards the person he hears approaching, unsurprised by the sight of the veiled figure. "Isn't that right, Lady Carmichael?"

The Bride stops close to him. "One small detail doesn't quite make sense to me, however. Why engage me to prevent a murder you intended to commit?" The Bride doesn't respond. "Hmm?" The Bride huffs out a laugh but it's not coming from any woman's mouth. "It doesn't quite make sense; This doesn't quite make sense." The voice then started to originate into their accent. "Of course it doesn't make sense." Holmes blinks a couple of times. "It's not real." Morairty snores tiredly. "Oh, Sherlock."

He takes hold of the veil and flips it back onto his head, holding it there so as to reveal his face. There is dried blood in the middle of his upper and lower lips from where he shot himself in the mouth. Holmes gasps. "Peekaboo." He rolls his jaw as if it hurts. Holmes stares in shock. "No. No, not you. It can't be you."

"I mean, come on, be serious. Costumes, the gong. Speaking as a criminal mastermind, we don't really have gongs, or special outfits." Holmes, looking faint, closes his eyes. Behind his closed eyes, it's as if a faint image of Watson is shining a penlight into his eyes.

The voice which speaks in his head, however, sounds a little more like modern John than Victorian Watson. "What the hell is going on?" Holmes opens his eyes again and peers at Moriarty in continuing disbelief. "Is this silly enough for you yet? Gothic enough? Mad enough, even for you? It doesn't make sense, Sherlock, because it's not real... None of it." Moriarty whispers the last sentence.

Behind his eyes, Holmes can again see Watson looking closely at him, and again he hears the voice. "What's he talking about?"

"This is all in your mind." Holmes clamps his eyes shut again. "Sherlock?" Michelle's voice rings out anxiously. The penlight shines into Holmes'a closed eyes. "Holmes!"

"You're dreaming." Moriarty whispers. Holmes, his eyes wide again, opens his mouth and gasps out a long breath.

"Is he dreaming?" Mary asks aloud.