A Chivalrous Gesture, Part Three

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Sherlock Holmes)

Rating: PGDisclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Sherlock Holmes

Feedback: Any and all welcome!

Summary: In this sequel to A Masterful Performance, Watson and Daniels work together to convince Holmes to follow-up on a case...

Link to Part One

~

It took a supreme act of will on my part, but I resisted the urge to don some disguise and trail Watson and Daniels. No doubt Watson would misinterpret that, believing me too vain to risk being detected by Daniels. But it was no such thing. Why should I be irked to admit that Daniels is my superior in the art of costuming? I might as well be irked to admit that Watson is my superior in the art of medicine.

And, at any event, the problem was absurdly simple. They really had no need for my expertise. Daniels had the connexions to find a man such as Burnwell—and Watson would know how to handle Burnwell once they located him.

I stood by the bow window, puffing thoughtfully at my pipe. I did not fear Watson and Daniels bungling the case—but I did fear what Daniels might say to Watson in an unguarded moment.

I frowned as I stared out at Baker Street. The February snow had melted, but the chill in the air was obvious from the way men huddled in their coats as they hurried by. I sighed and allowed myself to sink into a chair.

Daniels was of the opinion that I should pursue Watson in earnest. He imagined that the three of us could settle into an amicable arrangement. And Daniels, being Daniels, was quite capable of confiding in Watson and sharing this notion of his. He is quite persuasive, however. Perhaps he would even sway Watson—provided that Watson was not too much addicted to the fair sex and provided that Watson could master his jealousy.

I continued to stare out the window. It was pointless to consider the latter problem before tackling the former. I had no doubt that I could overcome Watson's penchant for women in the short run. But that was the rub, wasn't it? And that was the reason that I had not pursued the good doctor before I had ever met Daniels. I was too afraid that Watson would, ultimately, prove dissatisfied with my companionship and would exchange it for the comforts of domesticity.

I harbored no such fears with Daniels. Frankly, that lad wouldn't know what to do with a wife. It was no wonder he had fled from his match-making parents.

I paused in my thoughts to smile at that. I could guess how much it had cost Daniels to abandon the tight knit community of his childhood. But it was impossible to imagine such a bohemian soul making a satisfactory husband and father.

Watson, on the hand...

Daniels understood the difficulties of my position. I could seduce Watson. I was certain of that. But holding him was a different matter. And even if I could hold him, I had no intention of throwing Daniels over to do so.

Daniels was convinced of the contrary; he feared that I would drop him in an instant for Watson's sake. I shan't comment on that unflattering view of my character and honor—a view which, incidentally, Watson shared. Watson once had the audacity to lecture me on my affair with Daniels, insisting that I had best not be trifling with the boy.

What a very pretty opinion both men have of me.

I sighed again and decided to venture out into the cold. With neither Watson nor Daniels looking over my shoulder, it was an ideal time to restock my supply of cocaine. I had not indulged myself since the unfortunate incident in Daniels' rooms, but I needed the reassurance of having my seven percent solution on hand—even if it remained stuffed in a drawer.

And perhaps I would avail myself of a visit to my brother as well. I could still find him in his rooms on this day and at this hour.

~

“Are you still involved with that Jew?” Mycroft asked as soon as I seated myself in the chair opposite him.

I cocked my head at my brother, wondering if he recognised the irony of his words. Perhaps his lack of physical exercise had finally addled his brain. “A pretty comment, considering the scorn that our own religion faces,” I said dryly.

He glared at me. Our family's Catholicism is a source of embarrassment for him. I do not believe it would trouble him so much if we'd had the sense to be born to one of England's old Catholic families. There's a certain dignity, after all, to the families that clung to their papist faith in the teeth of Henry VIII and Elizabeth. But our Catholicism is of recent import—it came to us courtesy of our mother's French blood—and Mycroft finds that fact intolerable.

His disdain was quite illogical, however. We've never suffered because of our cradle faith. We've never even had cause to advertise it; neither of us, I'm afraid, is particularly devout.

“Very well,” Mycroft said, acknowledging the hit with a snort. “To what do I owe this visit?”

I hesitated. “I find myself in need of advice.”

“On a case? Pray tell me the particulars.”

“No,” I said. “Not on a case. On a personal matter.”

He stared at me for a long moment. There was a certain amount of distaste in his sharp eyes. I knew he preferred me to keep my private affairs private. In general I strove to comply—but there was no one else I could turn to on this matter.

“I can guess something of your entanglements,” he said at last. “I've heard you speak at length about Dr. Watson. I know that you hold him in high regard. And you were, ah, kind enough to introduce me to Daniels. I'll admit that he has a certain charm. You are no doubt caught in some tawdry triangle.”

“It's not quite as bad as that,” I assured him, allowing myself a small smile. “Not yet, at all events. I haven't approached Watson—am I mad to consider such a thing?”

“I fail to see why you should,” he said, regarding me steadily. “You seem content with Daniels. And, frankly, Dr. Watson does not sound like suitable prey for your tastes.”

I considered that as I helped myself to a cigarette from a case within reach. “I could win Watson over.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “But why bother when you have Daniels?”

“Oh, Daniels is eminently reasonable. He assured me that he's willing to share.”

It is not often that I manage to shock Mycroft—but on this occasion I do believe he came near to dropping his jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, but then abruptly shut it again.

I gave him a warning look. “If you say one word about our sainted parents rolling over in their graves, I shall be forced to kill you,” I informed him as I lit the cigarette.

That brought an appreciative grin to his face. “I shouldn't dream of it,” he assured me. “But to answer your question, Sherlock, I must say that you would be mad to, er, attempt to sway Watson.”

He paused, apparently wishing to be cautious. That gave me some indication of his seriousness; in general, Mycroft did not bother to spare my feelings with kind words.

“This Watson of yours sounds like the sort of chap who will leave you as soon as some pretty chit throws her handkerchief at him,” he said. “I doubt there's any fear of that with Daniels. And why should you wish the complication of a third party? You really ought to be satisfied. Daniels is intelligent enough not to bore you and discreet enough not to endanger your reputation. So I must ask you: why risk a bird in the hand?”

This was excellent advice—and quite in keeping with my own thoughts. I thanked Mycroft, rose from my chair and took my leave of him fully intending to heed his words. But by the time I reached Baker Street I knew that I would ignore his strictures.

The stupidity of that decision was rivaled only by my continued indulgence in cocaine. Looking back, I can scarcely credit the fact that I was such a fool. I had the friendship of one man, the love of the other and the devotion of both. Why had I not been satisfied?

Now I had lost both men—Daniels to that miserable, wasting disease and Watson to Miss Mary Morstan.

But I flatter myself. Perhaps my decision that day made no difference one way or the other. There was nothing Watson or I could have done to save Daniels, though God knows we did everything in our power.

And as for Watson...well, it wasn't jealousy of Daniels that drove him to take a wife. It was, on the contrary, the less admirable aspects of my own character.

LINK TO PART FOUR