Several moments ticked on by without either of the pair speaking, both eyeing the dripping pipe uncertainly. Each drop was like a grain of sand in an hour glass, threatening the inevitable approach of the end. It hit the deep puddle with an echoing tap, sending circular ripples to scurry throughout the pool. Irene breathed heavily as she watched them, clearly trying to distract herself from her own racing thoughts.

Holmes instead glanced up to look through the window, believing he could distinguish the form of Moriarty looking down upon them. There was a dark, blurred outline that seemed to match his physicality closely enough. But really, who else would be watching two people drown for entertainment? Holmes could already picture the amused expression on the man's weathered face as their lungs screamed desperately for air, and all that remained of them was the bubbles rising to the surface of the water; the Professor chuckling in good nature as if someone had just told him a rather good joke.

"Oh, how lovely. This is precisely how I hoped my evening would go," Irene sighed with a hint of sarcasm, frowning at her ruined boots in disdain. The tenseness to her tone, while lessened, was still present.

"Mm, well living the lifestyle you do should have taught you to expect the possibility of things not going according to plan, darling," Holmes mumbled back, tilting his head at her with a half-smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. He wishes for a dramatic show from us and, sadly for him, I won't allow that to happen.

Irene closed her eyes, obviously wishing that she could smile back. She whipped a damp curl off of her face and leaned back against the wall. "I do wish he'd not draw this out…" Her voice grew quiet suddenly, with an edge of bitterness. "Best to get it over with, don't you think?"

Holmes hummed in agreement. "I do wonder what reaction he expects to see from us—falling into hysterics perhaps?" he muttered sarcastically. "That's quite obviously not either of our styles." He shot an annoyed look towards the window as he was certain the Professor would be able to see it. I wonder how well he can hear us, if at all; and how he could possibly manage to through stone walls.

"You're certain there's not another possible escape plan?" Irene inquired, opening her eyes and looking to Holmes thoughtfully. She seemed to have gained back a bit more of her usual poise and self-control without the current threat of running water. "I've tried myself, but there really seems to be, well, no possibilities."

The detective shook his head in slight frustration. "I've already attempted to explore all our other options- there are none. He's made sure we have very little to work with, I'm afraid," he admit. "Our plan is the only one available to us. Though I haven't decided whether he purposely left this window of opportunity open or not."

"Well that's wonderful considering we're not even sure it'll work," Irene said slowly, eyes darting around the room ever so often, seeming to gain the hope that there surely was some other way of escape. Though just as quick as it came, her gaze would return back to the dripping water, and she seemed to lose her one spurt of optimism.

The Professor must have quickly gotten bored of witnessing them converse— their level of panic was not yet high enough for his liking, so it appeared—for he apparently decided it was time for the next round of water. The all too familiar rumbling from above shook the walls and grew louder until it resembled a roar just before water once again erupted noisily from the pipe. The stream crashed down on the still pool loudly, shattering the reflective mirror.

It seemed to be even more forceful than before; the speed at which the water crawled up their bodies and seeped through their clothes seemed to intensify. There went their shins…their knees…their thighs… And the cold; the freezing rawness that soaked through both clothing and skin gnawed away at the strength left in Holmes' body. With little to no control over the situation, his bottom jaw began to tremble as well as his knees.

Resigning himself to the fact that from this point he only needed to wait, Holmes rested his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Don't fret about her; it only slows down your mind. Concentrate on the water. Are there any cuts on your legs? Anything that would sting in irritation if the water contained salt?

Irene involuntarily shivered as well, the water hungrily soaking into her heavy dress. Yet again, likely to give herself something else to focus on, she struggled in vain against her bonds. The extra weight of the fabric was pulling her down considerably, something of which immediately came to Holmes' attention.

"I certainly never imagined I'd go this way," the lady mused with a small pout, though she said it so quietly it was difficult to make out over the constant thrashing of waves.

"Don't sound so resigned, darling—we still have a chance." Holmes snapped his eyes open to observe the waist-high water engulfing them, only to be splashed thoroughly in the face. The force of the small waves was enough to push them slightly from side to side, occasionally threatening to carry them off their feet.

There was a silence, save for the crashing of water around them. Holmes felt her light blue eyes upon him and so he looked up in question. Irene had dropped her pout, and met his eyes with a look that clearly read 'I think you and I both know how little that chance is'.

Of course, she would not say this aloud, but he was taken aback by the honesty of her expression. The Woman never demonstrated emotions this openly, not even silently, and certainly not to him. Her guard was forever up, just as his was.

Holmes blinked once, quickly averting his eyes from her and back to the water now covering most of his body. At once, a faint tingling sensation nagged at his upper thigh. It pained him very little but—that meant it was…

He spoke aloud as the thoughts whizzed through his brain. "I will presume for now that the water is brackish- a mixture of fresh and salt water. It has irritated a small cut I received while fighting the Professor's goons. While the pain is not as strong as it would be if the water were completely salt, it indicates that it's a combination." He paused, eyes glued to the water. He ignored the numbness in his feet. "In which case, I…" he caught himself speaking very softly, and so he cleared his throat and raised his voice so Irene could hear him once again, "I do not know whether or not there will be enough to… enough salt to…" He could not finish, furrowing his brows at himself for this sudden strange lack of control over his voice.

What if the chains can't be weakened enough? The question repeated itself maddeningly in his head, echoing louder and louder each time, beating in time with his pulse.

He'd nearly met his own death at point-blank range before, countless times now—but never before had he been this suddenly stricken with helplessness. For it was now an actual statement; a calculated fact. He had a strong probability of dying- and dying without seeing Watson a last time, who was happily drinking tea on the other side of England.

His fear wasn't for his own sake though; the threat of his own death ceased to ever really faze him (well until this moment, anyhow) a fact he knew angered his Boswell frequently. But he was for a moment frozen at the idea that if they did not make it, he'd have indirectly had a hand in The Woman's death. The only woman he'd even come close to lov-… ahem, caring for.

Normally he was able to keep his head in these types of situations by simply detaching himself emotionally from others involved- save for Watson and, apparently, Irene.

No… that night that he'd saved her at the butchery, something other than 'fighting for justice' and 'doing what's right' drove him to make certain she made it out alive. This time though, there was no way for him to change what he knew was coming. A train was furiously and speedily coming to hit him and wipe out his existence- and he couldn't even shield her from it, couldn't even run.

To his own great surprise— even though it was only for a split second—he, Sherlock Holmes, was terrified.

"Sherlock," Irene snapped impatiently when Holmes failed to continue. The exclamation thrust Holmes back into the present, releasing him from his inner turmoil. The Woman was eyeing the water that had now climbed to her neck with worry, lifting her chin to avoid it. Her lips had a bluish tint by this point, and her skin was paler than before.

"Ah, yes, my apologies," he said, forcing his normal, cocky tone, yet still avoiding her gaze of slight concern of which he reciprocated. "I was trying to say I am uncertain as to whether there will be enough salt in the water to rust our chains." Just as Watson told that patient that he was probably going to die of that infection.

She continued to watch him without saying a word. Holmes felt a strange, unfamiliar ache in his chest. Her lack of a retort told him enough- she was giving up. He opened his mouth to console her and then closed it again- for he couldn't promise her anything. She didn't need his fake comforts anyhow, he knew. Besides, he couldn't attempt to falsely console her as he would any other woman—she was too smart for that. Irene realized the truth as well as he, and perhaps even before he did.

He struggled to keep his footing as he was suddenly pushed to the right. He grabbed the chains right above his cuffs to hoist himself higher from the water. His arms protested in sharp agony, though they obeyed all the same.

"I'm sorry," he whispered; hollow, defeated. Quickly, however, he realized she couldn't hear him at all, and so he raised his voice over the furious crashing of the water and said again, "I'm so sorry, my dear."

Irene bit her lip, apparently unable to decide how to respond and so she just fiercely shook her head back and forth. Holmes watched her as the strange ache inside of him intensified. "I'm sorry…" he repeated weakly, his ever-confident exterior cracking finally. He could not think of anything to get them out this time, his mind would not respond; he couldn't protect them.

It was rather stupid, and he knew it, but a part of him wished he wasn't bound. Not even to escape, not for comfort, but just to be able to hold her. He was aware that she didn't need the reassurance but he wanted it. It was too cruel to be separated by the unforgiving space and water, facing her yet out of reach as their death approached; he felt the overwhelming need to kiss her, now of all times. If perhaps they weren't to make it out alive, at least he'd be able to hold the memory of her embrace as the water would fill his body.

He coughed as an angry wave of water flicked and splashed up past his neck into his mouth, abruptly pulling him from his thoughts. Yes, there is some salt in this. Across the room Irene was pulling herself up as high as she possibly could with her chains to prevent her head from ducking under completely. It was a battle to keep from going under and to stay in one place; now that the water was so high they were easily swept off their feet and shoved any way the sharp waves wanted them to go.

"Sherlock, I'm afraid I don't see why you're apologizing," Irene called out after a gasp for air. Holmes watched as she took a deep, steady breath before she briefly went under the water, gasping and whipping away her wet hair when she bounced back to resurface. "But if you really feel that badly, you can make it up to me by taking me to dinner," she suggested with a slight tremor in her voice, fighting with all of her strength to stay up.

She managed to give Holmes a shaky smile and, after staring for a moment, he could not help but give one in return. Ah… now that's the Irene I know.

His head suddenly bobbed once under. After resurfacing he sputtered loudly, replying, "Will eight o'clock this evening be convenient for you, darling?" The numbingly cold water slid down the sides of his face, biting him as it went.

"Perfect," Irene panted, squeezing her eyes shut as her face was angrily splashed by water. Her whole body gave a frightfully strong tremor. "H-How about the Royale, then?"

"Perhaps I'll-I'll take you somewhere even n-nicer," Holmes replied with a watery cough, holding his breath before the next wave overtook him. He was growing weary, and fast- his already battered body was quickly being sapped of its remaining strength. He gritted his teeth, tensing his arms to remain pulled up and above the water. He gurgled out all the icy liquid that had managed to fill his mouth, shivering intensely. Hypothermia in the middle of winter should've occurred to me much earlier than now…

This time around, it took longer for The Woman to bounce back up and break through the surface. "Sounds lovely," she sputtered, her diminishing strength apparent in her voice. She held eye contact with Holmes once more. "I sh-should expect nothing less from you though; after all, I don't fall in love with just any fool," she informed him quietly.

If she had ever said such a thing before he would have been immediately suspicious- but now, there were no tricks behind her words, no scheme of hers that he had to guess at, no hidden intentions. Despite their growing exhaustion, Holmes felt his insides twist.

"And I only really regard one single woman as mattering, my dear," he said lowly, his jaw set firmly as he watched her go under once more. To say it didn't hurt him slightly would be a lie.

At once he was pulled under completely as well; arms screaming at him and weak all over now, he had no choice but to relax them. He had no idea if Irene was still able to stay surfaced- he could not even see her outline from under the water. He held his breath firmly but no longer had the strength to stay above.

Suddenly, though, all noise around him stopped. Everything was quiet. From underneath the water, Holmes watched as the bubbles from where the stream met the pool stopped. Drowsily he wished to contemplate the reason behind this- but his body demanded rest. For now, he closed his eyes, finding that he was drifting away…

Yes, more evil cliffhangers. Thank you everyone for your reviews! They really make both of us happy ;) We'd really appreciate if you told us what you thought of this chapter as well!

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