A
Study In Satin
by Tigger
Within minutes, Sherla was again asleep. She slept deeply the entire ride. As they approached the Englischer Hof, Irene tried to rouse her, with only limited success. *Poor dear has expended her last bit of stamina this day.* So, Sherla was still only half awake when a petite, dark-haired whirlwind pounced the moment Hans-Peter's sleigh slid to a stop in front of the hotel. "I have been worried out of my HEAD over you! Are you all right? What happened up there? Are you all right? Here, let me help you out of the sleigh Are you all RIGHT? Why did you take so long? Are you all RIGHT? Why aren't you answering me?" "Katrina?" Sherla asked very carefully. "WHAT?!" the exasperated girl nearly bellowed. "Ummm. . .do you realize you are holding me nearly over your head off the ground?" "I'm what?" Katrina squealed, as she realized she was doing precisely what Sherla had accused her of doing. Very carefully, she eased her lover down to the ground and then pulled her into her arms for a hug. "I did say that it was the changes in the muscle tissue that helped us convince Moriarty that we were on the trail of the antidote he sought," Doctor Buchner said as he came upon the small group. "I would say that Fraulein Katrina has experienced much the same effect." "So it. . . did," Sherla said as she tried to find the ground with both feet. "Uh, Katrina?" "Yes, Sherla?" "I feel . . . very. . .strange. . " and the world went black. ~---------------~ When Sherla regained consciousness, she had been stripped of her black ski clothing and long underwear, and had been bundled into a warm flannel nightgown. She was tucked into a soft bed with thick quilts. "What. . . what happened?" She managed to ask. "YOU FAINTED!" an obviously upset Katrina accused. "Practically fell into a snow bank if I hadn't caught you. What is the matter? Are you ill? The doctors said you aren't running a fever but why did you faint?" "If you let her get a word in edgewise, Katrina," Irene's amused voice interrupted, "I think you will find out that she is simply exhausted and needs rest, warm food and more rest. She has been exerting herself most dreadfully ever since we discovered you were abducted." "Well, she is going to rest now, aren't you, Sherla?" Katrina demanded. "You're going to lay there in bed and let us watch over and take care of you." Something deep inside Sherla started to resist - let someone else responsibility for her safety? And then, the resistance crumbled. This was Katrina, the woman she had pledged herself to and Irene, one of the two women who had shown her what maternal caring and love was supposed to be. She loved them both, and just as importantly, she trusted them both. . . . with her love and with her life. "Thank you," she whispered as her eyes drifted closed again, "I am so very tired." "We will BOTH be here, dear," Irene said softly. Then she doused the bed lamp. "Sleep well." ~----------------~ The sun had gone down again when Sherla next awoke to find Irene seated by her bed, watching over her. "I sent Katrina to bed. She is still tired as well, for all her new found strength." Irene then sent for the soup that Frau Steiler had made for the invalids. Sherla had initially be upset when Irene had insisted on feeding her, but that had passed into resignation when the still-empty spoon shook in her hands. After her meal, Irene had asked her about the fight. Sherla had told her the entire story, including her offer to relent on her plan to kill Moriarty out of hand. "I offered him the rest of the drug, enough that he could have survived and completed the transition." Sherla told Irene as they walked up to the clearing. "But he refused to take it, didn't he?" Irene asked, and then smiled knowingly when Sherla shook her head "I wouldn't have thought he'd accept that, given what you've told me about him, but still neither would we have wanted Moriarty loose in the world, young and full of energy. Female or otherwise." "I wasn't worried about that, Irene. His ego would never have accepted the idea of becoming a woman, and in any event, he would not have found the help that made it possible for me to grow into a new, fulfilling life," Sherla said as she took pressed Irene's hand to her cheek. "He threw the syringe at the falls, then followed after it. I have always intended his death, but this is somehow easier. I gave him the same chance he gave me and while he is still dead, my conscience is clear." "Good, dear. It is time we put this behind us. This has been a very difficult time for you, these last two months. I think it is past time that we all go home to Paris," Irene said. "But for now, I want you to try and sleep some more. You took far more out of yourself than you realize, I think. "I think you are in the right of that. You go to bed, too, for I shall be all right now. Good night, Irene." A mischievous gleam lit Irene Adler's lovely amber eyes, as she recalled another time, and another Holmes. "Good evening to you," she said, her voice dropping an octave into her male tones, "Miss Sherla Holmes."
