Burglar

By:
shadows-light91

Disclaimer:
I don’t own any of the characters in this story… Wish I did.

Summary:
He was a burglar, a thief who had stolen her heart.

Author’s Note:
As you will obviously be able to tell, this is based Granada’s version of the story. I hope this is different than anything you have read so far...

I played the last note of Watson’s request, waiting for the approval I knew would come. He had closed his eyes halfway through the piece, and it took no genius to deduce from his relaxed expression that he had indeed enjoyed it. I laid down the Stradivarius on my desk and took up my place in my armchair. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled, overawed as he normally was. It would not be right to exclude the fact that was one of the reasons I was rather fond of him.

“Holmes, I cannot even begin to describe to you how moving that was,” his voice rang out, breaking the silence.

I glanced over to him and smiled slightly. “I’m glad you found it enjoyable. Now, Doctor, I suggest you hurry to your patient. It is well after ten o’clock.” He shot a glance to the clock on the mantle before jumping up. It never ceased to amaze me how my friend Watson could immerse himself so completely in a thing. One might consider it a fault; surely it was not a good habit, but I could not ever bring myself to call him out upon it. It defined his character, one might say, having complete focus on the task at hand. I had made the simple deduction long ago that it was something he’d picked up from his war days in Afghanistan.

However, I have begun to ramble as my biographer Watson often does – though I know it is simply of his writer’s nature – during his recollection of our cases. He rushed for his medical bag and subsequently took to his heels down the stairs only stopping to throw a goodbye over his shoulder to Mrs. Hudson and myself. Walking over to the window, I watched as he hurried down the crowded sidewalks of Baker Street, nearly bumping into a young servant girl travelling the opposite way.

I smiled slightly and then turned my attention to my pipe and slipper of tobacco.

It was not more than a moment before a knock sounded at the door.

I listened carefully for voices, and though I could tell that it was a woman, I couldn’t detect anything else. I had received no telegram or letter; even still, it might be a client, I reminded myself. I heard Mrs. Hudson usher the woman up and I jumped up from my chair to relight my pipe from a coal from the fire. When the door opened, I turned on my heel to find the young servant girl that Watson had almost run into standing in the doorway. It only took a moment for me to realize what I hadn’t deduced from the window.

My fiancé was standing in front of me.

I immediately suppressed the shock and surprise I felt inside so it wouldn’t show on my face. She stood holding onto the edge of the panelling, I observed, becoming more and more nervous by the second. I knew if I didn’t get a grip on my emotions, I would be in the same predicament she was. It took only an instant for my brain to take back its control.

“Aggie…” I began more nervously than I had intended.

“Esco… I mean, Mr. ‘olmes. It’s nice to see you.”

I started somewhat at her mention of Escott, though I knew she hadn’t noticed. Poor girl, she was now looking as if she were about to faint.

“Aggie, what are you doing here?”

“I…” Her voice was shakier than my own. “I was wantin’ to talk to you.”

“About what?”

That question sounded as stupid and pointless as it was, a clear sign I needed to get in control of myself. I took a deep breath and began again.

“Aggie, are you here… why I think you’re here?”

It took not a moment for her to break down, tears starting to run down her face. I walked over to her and cautiously took her by the shoulders. Doing the only I could think to do, I led her to the couch and offered her my handkerchief. I wished I had the tact to deal with women the way Watson could. I simply watched her as she tried to regain control.

“I… I haven’t been able to do anything for the past month. I know it’s foolish, but I can’t help it. I… fell in love with Escott only to find out he wasn’t who he said he was.”

As another round of tears began, I took a breath, at a loss for words. What was I to do with this poor sobbing girl in my sitting room? I’d caused this mess for certain, but was there a way to resolve it?

“Aggie, I never meant to hurt you… I-”

She shook her head and cut me off. “I understand. I shoulda known better…”

“No Aggie it was my fault.” This seemed to calm her for a moment, and I continued rambling off the thoughts that came to my mind. “Watson is always saying how I don’t think about how I affect others with my lack of emotion. That I detach myself from my work. I must concede to his better judgment in this case. I completely apologize for my lack of judgment.”

She locked eyes with me, and I could see the accusation in her eyes before she spoke. “You used me. You used me to kill ‘im.”

“Yes, I did use you, and with all my heart Aggie, I wish I hadn’t. But I didn’t kill him.” I paused for a moment, wondering if I should’ve told her the truth. At this point however, the truth seemed best in my mind. “It was never my intention for him to be murdered.”

“Then who?”

“I… I cannot say.”

She sighed. “I didn’t know what to do after I found ‘im. I knew that it must’ve been you that done it. Why else would you’ve been askin’ all them questions?” She stopped for another deep breath. “And then I was thinkin’ about you and our engagement. And that was when I realized you never really cared for me.”

I bit my tongue sharply, but the distraction did little to help how terrible I felt. I had gone too far this time. “Aggie, it’s not your fault. I am not a man who loves, and at this moment, I have come to the realization that I am not even fit to love after what I have done to you. I sincerely apologize; I don’t know what else I can do.”

She leaned in closer, and for a moment, we were no more than an inch apart. I knew what she wanted, but I held up my hand and pulled away. She nodded. “There isn’t anythin’ more that you need to do then.” I watched her rise slowly to her feet and walk to the door, tears falling down her face one after the other. When she reached the doorway again, she turned to face me, her red eyes fixed on mine. “You know, I shoulda listened to Hebworth.”

“In what respect?” I asked.

“He always warned us of burglars. I never listened to ‘im, and now I know what it’s like to be robbed.”

I flinched again but tried to hide it. “What do you mean?”

“I fell in love with a burglar named Escott… and now he’s stolen my heart.”

I heard the door shut softly behind her, and I buried my face in my hands. After a deep breath, I stared forward guiltily and walked toward the window. She was rushing out the door, it slamming behind her so hard I could feel the vibrations from where I stood. She was crying more now I saw as she began to race to the corner of Oxford Street. Watson was just returning from his patient at that same moment; I wondered about the coincidence of timing…

I couldn’t help but smile at my friend as he stopped Aggie on the sidewalk, trying to find out what was wrong. Ever the gentleman…

At that moment, I envied Watson’s way with women. My treatment of them left something to be desired, he always said, and I knew now it was true. I had used her; that was the cold hard fact I had to face. I had never been one to care about women, but I disliked knowing that I had been anything less than a gentleman toward her.

It was only a few moments later that I heard Watson on the landing.

“Holmes?”

I glanced up at him. “Yes Watson?”

“You will never believe what a poor young girl I just met on Baker Street just now.”

“I wouldn’t? Hm…” I said with my uninterested tone.

“Poor girl, she was sobbing about this horrid man…” He rambled off a list of things, all of which I tried to drown out. The last thing I wanted to hear was how bad I had hurt Ag… the servant girl. But Watson seemed to be in a rage about this injustice and continued with his ranting for a few moments before he noticed I was no longer paying attention to him. “Holmes, what’s going on? You are not listening to a word I am saying.”

Trying to keep my façade, I shook my head. “Nothing, my dear chap. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I will leave you in peace to ponder over the ‘poor lady’. I will be in my room.” Rising, I stood and reached for my violin and headed for the bedroom, not bothering to even glance at Watson. The last thing I needed was his questioning gaze.

Once seated on my bed, I took up my violin once more and began to play a solemn melody to fit my mood. As I ran my bow across the strings, her last words rang through my head. I had stolen her heart…

I sighed, knowing regretfully I had taken something from her that I could never give back.