The Glass Rose

Chapter Eleven

It was quiet between the two friends that evening. Despite being close since they were children, neither knew what to say to the other. When they returned to their apartments, they walked past hers as if it were a stranger who lived there. Neither of them was able to face that behind the blood-covered door hid an apartment covered in Adelaide's blood. Sherlock Holmes was a world-renowned detective. He had seen some of the worst things humanity was capable of. He had grown accustomed to blood. And yet, the idea of seeing another drop of blood of the woman he loved made him feel ill. The two shared very few words that evening, both too lost in their thoughts. The majority of the words the two shared were arguing over who would sleep on the couch. After some debate, Adelaide at last gave in and let Sherlock persuade her to sleep in his bed.

As she closed his bedroom door behind her so she could dress in one of his nightshirts, she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep that evening. Not when adrenaline flooded her veins every time the apartment settled or the wind howled. Not when her blood-stained apartment was printed on her eyelids. And yet, she still tried desperately. She lay on her back, staring up at the empty ceiling. She didn't notice that she slipped into a light slumber until she woke to the sound of her own screaming and her body being shaken. Her eyes opened and immediately met the blue ones belonging to Sherlock. Gasps tore through her body as she desperately tried to wipe away the tears that covered her rosy cheeks.

"Shhh. You're alright. I'm here." Sherlock spoke while wrapping his arms tightly around the blonde. She wanted more than anything to be strong. This wasn't her. She hardly ever cried and here she was crying countless times a day. This wasn't her. But with his arms wrapped tightly around her, she couldn't fight back her sobs. After a few minutes, her sobs subsided, but Sherlock kept rubbing comforting circles against her back. "Try to sleep, Addie." She pulled away to look at him as if he had gone crazy. "I'll stay with you and I'll wake you up if I think you're having a nightmare."

"But you-"

"Will be just fine. Try to sleep." She nodded and laid back down, staring into his eyes with her fear-filled ones. As he stared back into them, he realized there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to make her feel safe. So as she drifted off into a light sleep, he grabbed paper from his desk and began to write a letter to her older sister.

The next morning, they resumed their routine from the day before of Sherlock guiding Adelaide with her eyes closed to her room to get ready. He waited outside the door for her to get ready. After a few minutes, she opened the door, revealing she was dressed in a light blue gown with a matching hat and gloves. She let out a deep sigh and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of her apartment.

"Let's get this over with."

After what felt like the longest carriage ride of her entire life, they were at the finishing school. Sherlock helped her from the carriage, but she was too focused on the school in front of her to look at him. She only spent three years here, but they were some of the worst years of her life. She had never felt so alone before she had come here. She was constantly scrutinized for every move she made and was picked on by the other girls for every mistake she made. When she was younger, Adelaide had a bad habit of speaking French instead of English when she was scared or tired. Her parents were able to train it out of her, but once she went to finishing school, it came back. If she spoke a word of French or even spoke English with a French accent, she was punished. Just seeing the place brought everything.

"Are you ready to go inside?"

"Oui, allons-y." After she spoke, she couldn't help but instinctively flinch. "I'm so sorry. Yes, let's go." Sherlock looked at her with wide eyes.

"What's wrong? You don't need to apologize for speaking French." He looked at her skeptically for a moment, and couldn't help but feel like her slipping into French, and the fear that came along with it, was caused by this place. "Would you get in trouble for speaking French here?"