54 comments/ 126384 views/ 13 favorites A Study in Scarlet Ch. 01 By: Blue88 It was a late fall day, the trees still ablaze with color, but the rain and overcast skies made everything appear dull and drab. Dull and drab perfectly suited John Watson's mood. He extracted his tall, lanky frame from behind the wheel of his car and quickly sought the shelter of the saloon door. Entering, he settled himself at the end of the bar. His somber mood was reflected in his face, which was drawn and lined. His whole week had been especially shitty. An instructor in his department had handed in a sudden resignation and Jon knew that he would have to scramble for a replacement. Three interviews that week were totally unproductive, he wouldn't have hired those candidates to sweep the classrooms. To add injury upon insult, the books that had been ordered were not yet delivered to the student store and were probably going to be late. To top that off, students were getting pissed as they recognized the magnitude of the reading load for which they were responsible and were starting to complain to the administration. He also realized that what was really worrying him was his marriage. "Hi, professor. Welcome, haven't seen you in awhile," Chester said quietly as he carefully wiped down the bar not far from him. "Hi Chester. Thanks.......how about a scotch and water......on ice" replied Dr. Watson, noting that it was just after 4 p.m. "Comin' right up, Doc," said the bartender as he left to prepare the drink. The drink arrived in short order and John looked about him. His eyes wandered to the dark, walnut stained, wooden walls, the old light fixtures hanging almost haphazardly about, the cracked leather of the upholstery in the booths which lined the side of the saloon. The old place felt comfortable, a haven to which he had retreated many times since he was a graduate student so many years ago. His mind drifted back over the decades. He saw himself as a young man, finally finishing up his doctorate in American History. His manuscript on the life of Henry Clay had been accepted by a scholastic publisher and would soon be in print. To top all of that off he had been offered an teaching position by the university and he had accepted. The salary was poor, of course, but he couldn't have been happier at the time. All of his hopes and dreams were coming to fruition. Esther had already graduated from law school the semester before and had secured a position with a prestigious law firm in the city. They had been living together for the last year and John felt that now was the time to formalize their relationship. He had scraped together as much money as he was able and had purchased an engagement ring. The stone was pathetically small, but it was the thought that counted, he rationalized. Esther had squealed with happiness when he presented it to her and his heart had swelled with pride. Everything was coming together. Between their two paychecks they would be able to do relatively well. They planned the wedding in the spring. John smiled a bit sardonically as his thoughts dwelled on a young and effervescent Esther Prynne . His smile turned wistful as he remembered her smile, her enthusiasm, her slender, lithe body. She wasn't a tall girl, about 5'4", but seemed so much taller due to her zest for life. She wore her blond hair longer then, almost reaching her shoulders. Her blue eyes would always sparkle with joy whenever he would appear. Damn, he thought to himself, they had loved each other so much. The somber mood returned when his mind traveled again, back to that New Year's Eve party thrown by her law firm just weeks after he had presented her with the engagement ring. He had never really felt comfortable with her colleagues; he had always felt that little kernel of contempt from them as if his chosen occupation was a poor choice for a man. Perhaps his contempt for them wasn't hidden as well, which would always anger Esther. She kept reminding him that this was HER chosen profession and he had better learn to accept that. He knew that she was right so he did his best to get along with them....... until that damn party. By about 11 that night everyone was pretty well soused. Esther's company had rented a bunch of rooms in the hotel where everyone had gathered, so there were no worries about driving home. Spouses were there and most singles had brought dates. People were staggering about and drinks were sloshing over rims, spilling on the floor. It appeared an almost Bacchanalian scene, a party that the ancient gods would have relished. The only sober group there was a few of the senior partners who were obviously a bit upset at the degree of drunkenness exhibited. They sat at a far table with their wives and tried to ignore the antics of the partygoers. John glanced again at A. C. Doyle, the senior and founding partner. Ironically, Art Doyle was one of the few at the firm that John liked and admired. Art had always showed respect for John's chosen profession and always made time at company functions to take him aside and chat. John noticed that Art was decidedly upset. He saw the short, white haired lawyer glance about with a grim expression on his face and he knew that there would be a bit of ass chewing later in the week, a scenario which made John smile a bit. John though felt uneasy. He had always tried to avoid any gathering where there was the potential for drunkenness. He always made it a point to drink in moderation and when he did drink he made sure that it never reached a level where he lost control. He vowed that he would never turn into his father who had been a drunk and died a drunk when his car had slammed into a tree. His mother had had to provide for them both as his father had left nothing. John had grown up on the mean streets of the city and he had seen first hand the loss of dignity caused by poverty and an education system that failed so many. Deep down he knew that it really wasn't entirely the fault of the schools, education was not nearly valued as much as it should have been by the parents of the hoodlums cutting school day after day. John smiled a bit wryly as he remembered that he had been one of those hoodlums. His grades were poor, primarily because he just didn't care. His mother never really had the time to devote to his upbringing and so he roamed free with the gang......until his mom married Tim Murphy, and horror upon horrors, Tim was a cop. His free, roaming days came swiftly to an end and he was shown that the road he was on led to nothing but misery. John was not stupid and his conversion from a gang member to honor student didn't take an inordinate amount of time. In just a few short months he found himself buckling down to his studies and actually enjoying school for the first time. It was also the time that he vowed that he would never let alcohol rule his life - he would never turn into his father. So there was a very good reason why John was uncomfortable at that damn party. It didn't seem like there was anyone sober there, including Esther who almost never drank. This time she chided him that he was being a party pooper and to relax and enjoy. Esther was definitely woozy and John had tried to convince her that it was time to leave. She snapped at him...told him that it wasn't even midnight and she wanted to welcome in the New Year. John shrugged and bided his time, trying to keep away from the roisterers. Finally the countdown to the New Year had begun and John looked about for his fiancee. On the stroke of midnight he finally located her. She was in the embrace of a James Moriarty, another young lawyer at the firm. The kiss that they were sharing was no little peck. It seemed that they were devouring each other, mouths open, tongues dueling and it was all so damn obvious. Moriarty had his hands on Esther's ass, pulling her hips tightly to him. Her fingers were in his hair, grinding his face against hers. John, pale and trembling, strode over to the couple and yanked her away from this "hunk" as she had referred to him previously in the evening. John's face was inches from hers as he hissed, "What the hell do you think you're doing - have you conveniently forgotten that you're engaged, you slut?" It was then that Moriarty made a mistake. He put his hand on John's chest and shoved him. Seconds later the "hunk" was on the floor, John standing over him. Esther, red faced, eyes blazing, slapped John - a crack that was heard around the room. This little exchange had now caught the attention of the crowd and the silence was deafening. John stood still for a moment, shocked, then calmly but forcibly took Esther's left hand and pulled the engagement ring from her finger. Never taking his eyes from hers he dropped it to the floor and ground it under his heel, into the tile, until there was nothing left but a tiny, misshapen lump of metal. Without another word, he turned and left. He strode across the parking lot, hyperventilating until he forced himself to breathe more slowly. He recognized that he was shaking with anger and humiliation and he stopped at his car, taking long, slow breaths. He forced the rage from his mind, trying to think rationally. His thoughts were far from rational though - all he now wanted was to get back to their apartment, pack his things and get out.....get out as quickly as possible. That little scene left him little choice, Esther had gone too far. John didn't give a rat's ass that she was drunk and perhaps not fully responsible for her actions. His anger left little room for forgiveness at that point. Moments later John arrived home and hurried to pack his personal effects. He filled two suitcases and then stopped to look around him. "Shit, is this what I have to show for our life together?" he thought to himself. Two suitcases and a duffle filled with his papers and personal effects - it seemed almost pathetic. John was a bit calmer now - more deliberate. He knew that this wasn't just a bit of a tiff. This went to the very foundation of their relationship - a relationship that he knew had probably come to an end. He suspected that he now could no longer trust Esther - trust her fidelity nor trust her ability or willingness to safeguard his honor and dignity. If she wanted to fuck around, she would do it without the crutch or impediment of a husband. It didn't take long for John to get a room at a Holiday Inn not far from the campus. His mind was already thinking ahead. He knew that there were quarters available for unmarried faculty and visiting lecturers at the university. He would take steps to lease a small suite in a faculty residence the next day. He realized also that he had a lot of thinking to do about Esther, but he strongly suspected that they were through. He was also smart enough to recognize that he was, at the present, angry and embarrassed and in no state of mind to think this situation through with any rationality. Being away from her, for at least awhile, would give him the necessary "room" to allow him to come to some conclusions. The next few days seemed to fly by as John was swamped with the minutia of the new term. He consistently tore up messages to call Esther and he refused to take her calls. He was in no mood to confront her nor was he in any mood to get involved in another altercation with her. His face still stung, at least in his imagination, from her slap. He also knew that he missed her terribly and he wondered if perhaps he was making too much of what probably was just a drunken incident, although deep down he had doubts about that explanation. It was in that frame of mind that he drove to the Fairmont Country Club for lunch with A.C.Doyle. It was now over two weeks since the party and that long since he had moved out of the apartment. Yesterday John had received a call from Art Doyle asking him to be his guest for lunch at his club. John had attempted to beg off, but Mr. Doyle wouldn't seem to take no for an answer, so John had reluctantly agreed. He suspected the reason for the meeting, but tried to keep an open mind. Entering the sunlit dining room, John saw Doyle seated in a small alcove by the windows. He strode to the table and Doyle arose, smiling in greeting. "Hello, John. Thank you for coming," and extended his hand. John smiled in return, shaking his hand. "Thanks, Mr. Doyle. Nice to see you again," he rejoined although without too much enthusiasm. Doyle smiled softly. "John, please call me Art. I've asked you to do that before - I hope that you can consider me a friend." "Of course.....Art. You know that I have a lot of respect for you. I've always appreciated the courtesy you've shown me," John replied as they took their seats. They made small chitchat as they lingered over a small lunch. Art sat back as their table was cleared and final cups of coffee were brought. He looked at John with affection for he truly did like this earnest young man. "John, I'm sure that you know why I have invited you to have lunch with me. In addition to the enjoyment I had spending time with you, the "official" reason is Esther. Wait, wait, please......just sit and listen for a few moments, ok?" John sighed and nodded. He knew that this was coming and in truth, he rather welcomed it. Perhaps there was a way back for the two of them, and Art certainly could be the person that could help heal this rift. Art smiled as he got the go -ahead. "John, first of all I have to tell you that the entire firm owes you an apology. We let things get out of hand, the party wasn't supposed to degenerate into a drunken free for all. The entire staff was reprimanded when they returned to work. I also want to tell you that Moriarty was transferred to a branch office in another city. It came to my attention that his plan of seduction was no big secret and it all came out that week. He's no longer around. I would like to have fired him, but this was easier." John raised his eyebrows. "Plan of seduction? So this wasn't just an isolated incident?" he speculated silently. He wondered what else might have occurred - what else had Esther not told him? Art frowned a bit, suspecting what John was thinking. "John, I know what's running through your mind - please rest assured that I investigated and came to the conclusion that you have nothing to worry about. His plan for Esther never went beyond what happened New Year's Eve. I have little doubt about that. "I have spoken to Esther a few times this week and she really is a mess. She is of no use to the firm in her state of mind, and beside that, you know that I'm genuinely fond of her, as I am of you, and do not want this "slip" to ruin a perfectly good relationship. Look, John, you know that you love her and her love for you is so obvious that it's almost embarrassing. It's time for you to sit down and talk to her and get this straightened out. Why on earth end something that you both, I'm sure, desperately want?" John sighed. He knew that Art was right. "I know, I know. I think I've calmed down enough so that I can have a rational discussion with Esther. I guess I'll call her and set up a meeting - it's time." Art had a broad grin on his face. "No need, John. Esther will be expecting you at the apartment this evening for dinner. Now, now, don't get pissy, I know you, John. You're an intelligent, rational person. I knew that you would see my point." John smiled wryly. "Okay, Art. Tell her that I'll be there, but not for dinner. I'll get there around 8 and we can sit down over some coffee and talk......and Art, thanks, you are a friend. I guess I needed someone to get my ass moving." ******************** John and Esther did talk that evening - in fact their "talk" lasted for almost 2 hours. At first Esther was obviously nervous and agitated and made a few false starts, clearing her throat and then looking down at the cup of coffee between her palms. John purposefully didn't help, sitting calmly awaiting Esther's first words. He knew that if they worked things out that evening, if they were both frank and honest about what had happened and discussed what their expectations were of each other, perhaps they could put this behind them and get on with their lives together. But John wasn't going to make this easy. He was convinced - Esther precipitated this mini-crisis and it was up to her to begin fixing it. Esther finally looked up at John, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "John, I do owe you an apology. I truthfully don't know why I kissed Jim as I did, in fact I don't know why I even kissed him at all. I can only put it down to the number of drinks I had. I do feel ashamed of myself and I pray that you can forgive me." She had rushed the last sentence and it appears to John as if it were something she had prepared beforehand. John sat placidly, gazing at a obviously distraught woman. He sighed. "Okay, Essie - I understand, but understanding doesn't make the hurt any less. But you have to understand that a battle had begun and you made the decision to side with the enemy rather than with your mate. Do you know how that made me feel? Do you recognize the humiliation that caused me? If this is what I have to look forward to then I'm truly not certain that we should continue our relationship." Esther paled at those words and shook her head. "No, John. Please. I do love you. Don't let a moment of stupidity ruin what we have." "Look, Esther," Jon replied, his voice still soft and calm. "I don't want to be a prig about this, I don't mean to sound pedantic nor do I want to talk this to death, but we have to be clear about what we expect of each other. If we are going to be married, we have to understand what our commitments mean. We have to agree on what the words honor, love and fidelity mean." In the end Esther apologized for her behavior again that evening and vowed to never again drink to "excess" while John did wonder what she meant by "excess". John also apologized for losing his temper although he secretly didn't think his reaction was all that "over the top". Their discussion ranged from what fidelity meant to both of them as well as loyalty and trust. John moved back to the apartment the next day and, while it took more than a few days, things seemed to return to normal. Interestingly enough though, John never again purchased an engagement ring, and Esther never asked for one. They married in the spring as planned and their union was a good one. They truly did love one another and that love was tested when they discovered a few years into the marriage that he was sterile. John had himself tested and had discovered that the few sperm he was able to produce were mostly feeble and ill-formed. They discussed alternate ways of enlarging the family, but in the end decided to accept the fact that it would be just the two of them. In truth, it didn't really seem to devastate Esther as deeply as John had feared. He knew that she had shed some silent tears a few nights before falling asleep, and he had held her close in his arms, but she had accepted this reality remarkable well. She seemed to find solace in her work and in her relationship with her husband. ******************** John blinked, looking around him in some embarrassment, realizing that he had been daydreaming for quite some time. He felt some relief when he looked at the clock above the bar and saw that not too many minutes had elapsed while revisiting the past. He also noticed that his drink was now consumed and he deliberated a few seconds about ordering another. Making up his mind he motioned to Chester and it wasn't long before another was in front of him. John recalled Art Doyle with deep affection and he still felt a deep sadness at Art's death not long ago, a sadness that lingered at the edge of his consciousness. A.C.Doyle and Lee LeStrade, one of the younger partners, were really the only two at the law firm with whom Jon had established friendships. Lee had joined the firm about ten years ago and quickly established a good relationship with John beginning at one of the company get-togethers. He knew that John was a professor at the university and was deeply impressed. In fact, Lee LeStrade had long held a secret desire to go into teaching. Thank goodness he was still hale and hardy. A Study in Scarlet Ch. 01 Thoughts of his wife again entered his mind, causing a slight frown, a deepening of the lines in his face. Their 20th anniversary was fast approaching and the uneasiness he felt about their relationship marred the thought of what should be a happy event. He couldn't fathom what was happening to them. After almost two decades of marital love and affection, things had deteriorated. It was so slow, so gradual, that he hadn't really even noticed it until recently, but the lack of affection, the indifference, even perhaps a smidgeon of disrespect, were becoming all too apparent. The little spats, the avoidance of physical affection were now all too common, and now, looking back over the past few months or so, John was finally aware that real problems had crept into their marriage. To compound the problem even further, John was uncertain as to exactly how to confront Esther and what steps to take to improve their relationship. John recognized why he was reluctant to bring up the deterioration of their relationship with his wife. He knew first hand how sharp her tongue had become and just didn't want to get into another bitter argument with her. "Shit," he thought to himself. "Has it really gotten so bad that I can't bring myself to even talk to her?" he wondered. John was startled by a soft voice at his ear. "Hey, buddy, buy a girl a drink?" He turned a bit and saw Irene at his side which provoked a small smile. "Renee," he blurted out. "What on earth are you doing here? You're the last person I would have expected to see." "I stop by every few weeks, John - for old times sake. Order a gin and tonic for me. I'll be right back, I have to pee." Those words were flung over her shoulder as she hurried to the rest rooms. John looked after her with a small smile of affection on his face, admiring the way her hips swivelled under her tight skirt. Dr. Irene Adler, a striking beauty in her late thirties, was a more than attractive woman. Tall and well built with bosoms thrusting out aggressively, as if daring any mere male to encroach. Her dark, shoulder length hair and flashing dark brown eyes made her stand out in any gathering. She was now the assistant chair of the Drama and Performing Arts department, no small feat for the first of her family to attend and graduate university. She and John had been friends since their graduate days and he and Esther had suffered with her through two divorces and countless abortive relationships. John considered Irene his closest friend and he truly valued that relationship. It wasn't long before she returned and slid onto a stool next to his. Picking up her drink, she turned and said, "Okay, Johnny. What's the problem?" "Why do you think there's a problem, and what's all that bull about you stopping here? I'm sure that you rarely stop here," John retorted, but without a bite to his words. Irene laughed and took a small sip. "Okay, Sherlock. I saw that heap you call a car outside as I was driving by and wondered why the hell you were here. So I decided to stop and see if it was really you in here. Happy now?" John gazed at her with real affection. There was no lasciviousness in that look, he truly valued Irene as a close friend and trusted her totally, one reason perhaps why he unburdened himself to her so easily. She sat there and listened as John confessed his frustration and puzzlement as to what had happened to his marriage. She sensed the anger underlying the torrent of words pouring from him and put her hand on his arm, trying to, at least in small part, allay his torment. John finally paused, he seemed to be wrung out, empty, yet he felt a bit of relief. He realized that he needed this catharsis, this sharing, this purging of what had been agonizing him for so long, and who better than with his closest friend. Irene had sat listening with a sense of deep sorrow at her friend's grief. She had never realized how much he had been hurting and for so long. John had always had the ability to sublimate his emotions, so it was with a bit of a shock that she discovered this rift between her good friends. She truly had no answer for him, but she couldn't make herself believe that the love that John and Esther shared was so fragile. Something was going on. "John," Irene interrupted. "John, look at this objectively, as difficult as that may be now. What you're describing is an accumulation of many small and isolated events and incidents. There's got to be a reason why things have gotten so bad, but you're describing the symptoms not the cause. Something must have happened to create the present situation. You've got to look for the cause. Have you done anything that really and truly angered Esther? Has she done anything to anger you? I can't believe that you two just drifted into apathy and indifference - there has to be a reason," concluded Irene. John sat there, shaking his head. "I don't know, Renee. I just don't know. I can't put my finger on anything particular thing that has happened over the past few months. It's true, it seems as if we just drifted into this morass and I don't know what to do about it." "How about talking to her, John. Why not just sit down and talk to her. It could be as simple as that," Irene said gently. "We've tried, we've tried. A rational conversation then turns into a spat, she accusing me of being paranoid and me losing patience with her. It just isn't working, damn it. It just isn't working," John replied his voice fading. ******************** That same afternoon, in another part of town, Dr. John Watson's wife, Esther Watson, was leaning back in her office chair, staring steadily at the tall, blond man seated opposite her. Her frank appraisal was not covert, she made no attempt to hide her obvious evaluation. Esther had a slight smile on her face - she was quite aware of Jim Moriarty's intent. He had been trying for months to seduce her, but she had been able to laugh him off. "Damn," her thoughts ran. "He's still hot . He almost makes me wet just looking at him, but that's all that I'm going to do - just look. He certainly isn't worth my marriage, not that I seem to have much of a marriage now." That thought turned her smile bitter. "Jim," she said. "It's been now over half a year since you've been transferred back and it's obvious that you haven't changed one bit. You're still a relentless womanizer. Why not get married again, then you won't have to hunt so relentlessly?" "Jeez, Essie," chuckled Moriarty. "I'm just trying to be friendly, why get so defensive. You're a gorgeous woman and any real man would love to get into your panties. Do I have to say it again? - your husband is an idiot. He's more interested in his books than he is in you and you know that I'm right." "You want me, I know you want me," he said to himself. "I see it in your eyes, and it will happen, Esther. It will happen." Esther bit her lip and looked away. Moriarty's remarks hit closer to home than he realized. She was not unaware of the coolness that had developed between herself and John. They seemed to be drifting apart and his occasional snide remarks about lawyers and sharks did nothing to close the rift. She also had to admit that she was goaded to reply in kind, denigrating his profession. Years ago little remarks like these were meant to be funny without any bite, but now......well, now it was different. They just seemed to antagonize each other. "Maybe I should have told John about Jim being transferred back here?" she wondered again silently. "I was just afraid at how he'd react. I just didn't want to open that can of worms again. I just pray that not telling him wasn't a mistake." Esther's attention returned to Moriarty. "Look, Jim, let's not go there. My home life is off limits, leave it alone." Moriarty just smiled. "Okay, Es. Just remember, I'm always here for you. You know you have a friend here." "Yeah, a real friend," replied Esther with a grimace. "I'm not brain dead, Jim. I know what you want - your tongue's hanging out of your mouth. Go chase after some of the young stuff, but keep it out of the office. Now get back to work, we have to finalize the Simmons contract." Moriarty laughed as he stood, then leaned over the desk and gently brushed her lips with his before she could react. He then turned and strolled out, humming to himself. Esther sat still for a moment, breathing heavily, ashamed to admit even to herself that that small gesture had affected her so much. She put her fingers to her lips and felt a frisson of excitement, aware of how long it had been since her husband had even attempted to touch her with any degree of affection. "Is this where all of the flirting with Jim will lead? Would she really give in and have an affair?" she wondered silently to herself. Shaking her head, she dismissed those thoughts quickly. Esther's phone rang and she turned to it with a gesture of impatience. She recognized Stan Hopkin's voice, one of the senior partners. "Es, you're finishing up on that Simmons contract, right?", he asked. "Sure, Stan," she replied. "It's been taking up our time for months now - as you know. Why? Is there a problem?" "Nah, I don't think so, but it looks like you guys are going to have to fly up to see him on Monday, he's decided that he can't make it down here as scheduled and he wants the thing finished and done with then." "Damn it, Stan," Esther protested. "It's Friday now and we'll have to come in tomorrow to get the thing finished. We're going to be cutting it really close. Don't forget, I've only had Jim working with me on this." Stan sighed, "I know, I know, Essie. I'll get you some help tomorrow, but we'll probably have to work late. I can't make it tonight and I want you to get some rest also. Let's come in early tomorrow and you and Jim should be able to finish the damn thing by the end of the day. I'll inform him as soon as I hang up." Esther ended the conversation with a half-hearted okay. She sat for a moment, agitated, knowing that this would probably cause another spat with John. He had been complaining about her work load and she recognized that she had been putting her career ahead of her marriage. Esther had a feeling of foreboding and she prayed that this wouldn't be the "straw" that precipitated a battle royal.. She would have a conversation with John, he would understand. Once this project was finished they would devote more time to themselves, perhaps go on a long delayed vacation. She knew that over the past few months she had been short and impatient with John, snapping at him for little reason. She vowed to herself that things would change as soon as this project was finished. ******************** In his office, leaning back in his chair with his feet on his desk, James Moriarty, Esq. smiled grimly. He knew that Esther was vulnerable, that she would eventually be on her back for him. He had never forgotten that New Year's Eve and the confrontation with her prick of a husband. He had been humiliated, transferred, and his career short changed, but he was back now, back and with a burning desire for revenge. He knew that the best way to pay back Dr. John (fucking) Watson was to make Esther his slut and he was confident that he could accomplish that task. ******************** The weather had grown cooler and there was now a bite in the air, but, thank goodness, the rain had stopped and John was anxious to get home. He was disappointed to discover that the house was dark as he drove onto the driveway. "Shit," he muttered to himself. It looked like another late night for Esther and his lips tightened into a bitter grimace. He was startled when a pair of headlights pulled up beside him and he saw Esther's car nestled next to his. Hiding his surprise he exited his car and awaited her by the door. "Hi, sweetie," she chirped. "Great, we made it home at the same time. How about we freshen up and I'll treat you to dinner. Let's go someplace really nice tonight, ok, honey?" "Sweetie? Honey?" John said to himself wonderingly. He had a bad feeling. Esther was acting much too girlish, almost giddy. Something rotten is coming. One didn't go from indifference to an almost fawning affection overnight. John figured that he would play along and see what she really had in mind for him. He just knew that something was coming. Despite John's misgivings, he and Esther had a lovely dinner and were able to converse with what almost seemed like real warmth. John felt encouraged, perhaps they could turn the corner and rediscover the reasons why they had fallen in love and married. During the evening John had, for the first time in ages, really looked at his wife. He saw, with perhaps a smidgeon of guilt, that Esther was truly a lovely, mature woman and despite her 40 odd years she still exuded a sensuality that aroused him. Perhaps he was equally at fault in the problems they were having. Perhaps he had not paid her the attention she deserved; perhaps he was too involved in his career, robbing him of the time to nurture his marriage. John vowed that he would make more of an effort to strengthen the marriage, ............as long as Esther did also, he temporized. He wasn't a total fool - he recognized that the blame could be ladled out equally, but he would make the effort. It would be stupidity itself to allow the marriage to continue to deteriorate through something as silly as inactivity. Esther was encouraged. She saw John relax and start to open up a bit. She also noticed him looking at her with some real desire in his gaze. She felt a surge of affection for her husband and again considered herself a lucky girl to have found someone like John. She again vowed that she would work to strengthen their relationship. Please, God - just let her get through this damn Simmons thing. Once that was over she could devote her full attention to her marriage. Esther cuddled into John's arm on the drive home. It didn't take long before they had the car parked in the garage and were enveloped in the warmth of the living room where John had started a fire. Glasses of wine were poured and a soft melody was coming from the stereo. Irene knew that she would have to tell her husband that she would have to go into work tomorrow and then the trip out of town on Monday. She knew that wouldn't go over too well and she bit her lip as she tried to frame that information in a way that wouldn't precipitate another argument. She wondered if she should wait until tomorrow to tell him about having to work tomorrow and the out of town trip, but decided that he would become even angrier if she told him at the last minute. She braced herself - she knew that this wasn't going to be easy. "Honey, I have good news. This whole Simmons thing is almost finished and then we both can go back to having a normal life. I know that it's been difficult for you and for me also, but it'll be done in just a few more days. I have to go into work tomorrow to finish the final draft and then we'll be flying out on Monday to meet with him and his staff. It'll then be......." "I don't need to know anything more, Esther," John snapped, interrupting her. "It's very obvious how important your career is to you. It's also obvious that it's a hell of a lot more important than your marriage - at least your marriage to me. You don't have to explain - it's the same old bullshit. I've heard it all before - I've been hearing it for years." John turned to leave the room, but before climbing the stairs he turned back and stood looking at her. She sat there, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "Think, Essie. Think about what you really want. Think about that during the weekend and the following days. I'll do the same." With that he again turned, climbed the stairs and entered the guest room where he undressed and climbed into bed. It was awhile before he was able to fall asleep, most of the night was spent gazing up at the ceiling. Esther was up early. She took a quick shower and dressed casually in skirt and sweater. She took little time with her hair this time, pulling it into a pony tail. Not stopping for breakfast she grabbed her briefcase and was out the door quickly. She had no desire to even see her husband. Her anger at his biting words the evening before still smoldered and she wondered how long he would be her husband if they continued as they had been, but brushed those thoughts aside for now. She had to concentrate on getting this work project finished and over with. The problems with her marriage would just have to wait until a more appropriate time. John awoke late that morning, well after Esther had left. He felt haggard and fatigued; what little sleep he did manage was filled with anxiety and anger. He went through the motions after getting out of bed: shower, shave, etc - managing to finally get downstairs where he made himself a pot of coffee. He did notice that the kitchen was unused - Esther had not even paused to make coffee and he felt a stab of remorse for a moment. John sat at the table, his head in his hand, the steaming cup of coffee sitting untouched before him. His head was throbbing, the aspirin consumed upon rising not yet working. His anger had cooled and he was now berating himself for over reacting. John knew that he shouldn't have snapped at his wife as he did. He also knew that he had been short tempered and abrupt with Esther for months now and he truly didn't know why he had become such a bully. Then again, he also knew that she often seemed impatient with him and would have a tendency to reply in kind, precipitating another row. John was anything if not analytic. His mind roamed over the past months, searching for reasons for the conflict that had permeated their relationship. He couldn't put his finger on any single event or occurrence; it almost seemed to come out of nowhere. It was almost as if they went from a loving and devoted couple to warring nations. "What the hell has happened?", he asked himself. "Why have we become so antagonistic, so uncaring? It's almost as if the love we have for each other has just quietly dissipated over the last few months." John shook his head impatiently and vowed that he would fight for his marriage. He knew that he loved Esther and whatever the problems were, he would fight to conquer them. He also vowed to control his temper and not surrender to churlishness. His thoughts returned to the dinner the evening before and a reluctant smile came to his lips. He knew that he loved his wife and last evening was proof that the spark was still there. He grimaced as he realized that he had really behaved badly in reaction to Esther's news about working today and then the trip out of town. He should have lost his temper, he knew that now. John looked at his watch and saw that it was well after 11:00 a.m. He suddenly grinned at a thought. He would surprise Esther at work and see if she could come out for lunch with him. He had to come up with a plan to rekindle their love and the first thing would be for him to become more understanding and considerate. He knew that Esther had a demanding and stressful job and he just had to make up his mind to be more supportive, something he should have been doing all along. He nodded to himself - now that's a plan. He knew that if he vowed to become a better husband Esther would see the change and react in kind. Driving to his wife's law office, John was humming to himself when suddenly he felt the familiar thunk-thunk of a flat tire. Cursing to himself, he pulled into the parking lot of the diner a few blocks from his destination. Standing next to his car he resigned himself to a forced delay and called the road service people on his cell phone. When he was informed that they would be 30 minutes to an hour, he shrugged and decided to have a quick bite in the diner. Lunch with Esther would have to be postponed. It's a good thing that he hadn't called first, he thought. A Study in Scarlet Ch. 01 Entering the diner, Jon was moving to a booth when he heard his name called. Glancing about he saw Lee LeStrade, a senior partner in Esther's law firm sitting alone in a booth. Lee waved him over, "John, what a nice surprise. Please, join me. I haven't even ordered yet." John smiled as he slid in across from Lee. "Nice to see you, Lee. What on earth are you doing here, especially on a Saturday. Isn't Emily upset, you work hard enough during the week." "My lovely wife is out of town, John. She's visiting a girl friend for the weekend and I'm batching it. I just had to run to the office for a file I needed. I then decided to stop here for a bite before heading home. I'm just lousy in the kitchen, I hate even making myself a sandwich. Emily laughs at my kitchen skills. But what about you, John. Is this a hangout of yours?" "Nope. I was headed over to the office to see if Esther wanted to grab a bite for lunch, but I had a flat tire and the service people won't be here for about an hour. There go my good intentions," he chuckled. "Buck up, John. The project that Esther and Jim are working on should be all wrapped up in a few days. After they get back to town we can all celebrate." "Jim?" asked Jon, a question in his voice. "I don't remember Esther mentioning anyone by that name." "Jim Moriarty, he was transferred to the main office when the branch where he was working closed. He's been here around 6 months or so. I'm surprised that Esther hadn't mentioned him to you, they've been working on this project for a few months now," Lee paused and turned his head, seeking a server, thus he didn't notice the color drain from John's face. "Miss, Miss, can we have some more coffee here? Yes, regular, not decaf. Thanks." John felt his throat tighten and his stomach clench and turn sour. A red haze filled his vision and It was with a mighty effort that he controlled himself and was able to continue. "I guess that I haven't been paying attention, Lee. It almost seems that Esther and I live in two different worlds at times." He forced a smile to his lips. Fortunately, Lee didn't notice that the smile never reached his eyes. "Yeah, I guess we're all a little guilty of that. Sometimes I have to force myself to pay attention to what Emily tells me, " Lee laughed. It took every ounce of John's self control to stay in that booth, mechanically consume his tuna salad sandwich, sip his iced tea and continue the innocuous conversation with Lee LeStrade. His mind was screaming for his attention, but he tamped down his agitation and fury and did his damned best to maintain a cool facade. He felt his heart beating in his ears and felt the sweat running down from his armpits. He finally saw the auto service truck pull into the parking lot and he quickly excused himself and departed. (To be continued) A Study in Scarlet Ch. 02 John Watson drove home almost by rote. He finally looked out at the front of his garage and realized that he had absolutely no idea how he got there. The entire trip from the diner to his house was a blank. He took a long, shuddering breath, exited the car and stumbled into the house. His thoughts were chaotic and he felt a sense of emptiness and loss. He knew that he had to sit down and reason all of this out, but he just couldn't concentrate; he couldn't put his mind at rest, he couldn't even begin to explore the why of it all. "Esther is having an affair, you stupid schmuck," his mind screamed at him. "She's having an affair, you stupid, idiotic cuckold - she's having an affair right under your fucking nose and you didn't even take the time to see it." "NO, NO," John screamed aloud, his voice echoing off the walls. "THAT'S NOT TRUE, THAT'S NOT TRUE. SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP.' He stood still, trembling, fighting to regain control. The pain he was feeling was visceral and tears kept coming to his eyes; he kept wiping them away impatiently. He walked slowly to the liquor cabinet/bar and poured himself a small glass of scotch which he diluted with water. Looking at the drink in his hand he hesitated and then turned and poured it into the small sink. He knew that that wasn't the way to go, he wasn't his father. He walked into the bathroom, washed his face and looked in the medicine cabinet for the small vial of low dose Xanax that Esther had to help her sleep at times. He paused for a moment, looking down at the pills in his hand, then shook his head and put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet. His lips twisted in a bitter smile and he almost laughed at what he momentarily contemplated. He felt a bit calmer, the shock of this sudden revelation slowly wearing off and his brain starting to function again, albeit a bit erratically. "So, Jim Moriarty is back, he's back and she never said one word to me. No wonder our marriage has been going to hell these past few months. It's a wonder she has been able to keep both her marriage and her lover balanced, but then again, Esther has always been talented." John thought to himself. "Now the question is - what the hell am I going to do about that. There's little doubt that she been fucking him for months now and they're going away for a few days together on business," he laughed briefly yet bitterly. "No wonder she's hasn't been too interested in sex with me, she's been getting plenty from him." John knew that he wouldn't, couldn't accept his wife's infidelity. There was just no way that he could stay married to a wife who was an adulteress. He would have to take some action - he would have to file for divorce. He felt a sudden pang as the word entered his consciousness. Divorce - such an ugly, cheap, tacky word, but there it was. He briefly considered counseling, but knew that it was now too late. Perhaps before she took the plunge into infidelity, perhaps then, perhaps then........., but not now, now it was too late. As John sat, contemplating the bleakness of his future, the sorrow that had enveloped him slowly began to be replaced by an icy calm that cleared his mind. He felt a coldness creep into his soul, a bitterness at his wife's betrayal. No more tears, no more feeling sorry for himself; it was now time for him to take some action. The anguish that had etched deep lines in his face faded to be replaced with a grim determination. The boy who had once roamed the mean streets of the city had taken control; he would be no one's patsy. Despite what he considered overwhelming evidence of Esther's adultery, John also recognized that there remained a small kernel of doubt. He knew that before he took any action he would first totally satisfy himself that what he suspected was, in actuality, true. He needed hard, factual evidence of his wife's infidelity. Then there would be no doubts. A grim smile came to his lips, 'There's a price to be paid for betrayal, sweetheart; a very high price," he muttered under his breath as he picked up the phone - but he didn't feel the tears coursing down his cheeks. ******************** "Essie", Stan Hopkin's voice boomed through the almost empty offices. "It's almost 3:00 and I have to take off. You guys are almost finished, right?" "A couple more hours, Stan. Jim is finishing the first part of the final draft and I'm almost finished here. "Okay. Don't forget, your plane leaves at 7:00 tomorrow evening. Your tickets will be at the ticket counter. Get a good night's sleep and be fresh for that damned meeting with Simmons. It should all be routine now, that is if that louse doesn't find something else to worry us about. Say goodby to Jim for me. See you all when you get back," Stan Hopkins said as he departed. "Shit, leaving tomorrow evening is going to lead to another spat with John," she thought to herself, wondering how they could ever manage to put this behind them. Could they ever find their way back to the love that they had shared? Esther again felt a sense of foreboding, realizing that spending a couple of nights alone in an hotel with Jim, even though in separate rooms, and hopefully separate floors, might be disastrous if John knew. Again she wondered if she hadn't made a very serious error in judgement by not telling her husband that Jim had returned to the firm. She shook her head impatiently, she had done nothing wrong and she intended to do nothing wrong - but why then did she feel so anxious? ******************** "John, come in, give me your jacket," said Irene as she saw John standing in her doorway. "Now, tell me what's going on, you didn't sound yourself on the phone. Do you want a drink or something?" "Nothing, Irene," John replied. "Thanks for letting me come over on such short notice. I really need to talk to you." Irene saw his drawn features and red eyes. She knew that something had happened, but she would follow John's lead. Something was obviously very wrong; her heart went out to him. "Okay, John. At least sit down." John turned into the small, but comfortable living room. The late afternoon sun flooded the room, giving it a warm, lived-in feeling. If he was not so troubled, he would have again marveled at how Irene had made her home so inviting. He sat down in one of the easy chairs and crossed his legs, looking up at her He smiled weakly, again feeling a surge of affection for his good friend. "Renee, I'm really sorry about bringing my problems to you. It seems that you are the lucky one, you get to share them," John told her, straining to get out a chuckle. Irene sat, waiting. Her posture invited John's confidences and he related to her his suspicion that Esther was in the midst of an affair. "It all makes sense now, Renee. Why our marriage has deteriorated over the past few months, her dismissive attitude, her lack of affection toward me, her obvious disrespect." John's voice had risen a bit and he paused, regaining control. "I don't even remember the last time we really made love. I'm not talking about a quickie coming together. I'm talking about making love, the way two married people who adore each other should. Irene," John paused again and tears came to his eyes. "I don't even remember the last time we even kissed, can you believe that?" Irene hurt for him, and for Esther. Despite now having the information John had given her, she found it hard to believe that Esther would betray her husband. She knew how much she adored him. John" Irene replied gently. "Listen, please. I know that your discovery about Moriarty's return has shaken you, but try to reason this out. It could very well be that Essie hasn't mentioned it to you for the very reason that she knew that you would go ballistic. It could very well be that she just didn't want to get you upset. Couldn't that be true?" John just sat and shook his head. "I've thought of that, Renee. I've tried to come to that conclusion, but it just doesn't fit. The fact of his return and when he returned coincide with the beginning of our problems. That's just too much coincidence. You know, whenever Essie would tell me that she had to work late, or had to go in on a Saturday, it never, ever entered my mind that she wasn't telling me the truth. "I knew that this project was a killer and I was understanding, but the late nights, the weekends, her sudden absences, supposedly work related, started to fray at the very fabric of our marriage. We had small spats about it and I warned her that she was putting her career ahead of our relationship but she called me paranoid and then tried to placate me, telling me that this thing would soon be over and then we would be back to normal." John paused again and then smiled bitterly. "Let's call a spade a spade, Renee. Let's not try to evade the obvious, Esther is screwing Moriarty and there is absolutely no way for me to accept that. My marriage is over, it's irrevocably broken. All I have to do now is make sure that I get the evidence I need in order to satisfy myself before I start divorce proceedings." Irene gasped and her hand covered her mouth. "Divorce? Wait, John. Hold on. Aren't you jumping the gun just a bit. All you have are suppositions, suspicions. I admit that it doesn't look good, but don't go off half-cocked. You've got to get to the bottom of this. Talk to Essie, for goodness sake. You know that she can't lie to you. Talk to her." "Goddamn it, Renee. She's been lying to me for months, don't tell me that she can't lie, she's gotten damned good at it. Look, Irene. You're into drama, stagecraft, etc. Can you make me up so that I can't be recognized? I'm going to fly out after she leaves and I'm going to shadow her and Moriarty. I'll get the evidence I need. I'll catch her in the act." Irene laughed, releasing a bit of her tension. "John, John, what.... you're going to be James Bond? Forget makeup, you'll look ridiculous and no makeup is going to last two or three days. But you may be right about flying out and just looking around. You know what, you may find that you're totally wrong. "If you want to make yourself disappear, not be noticed, all you have to do is just change a few things. You never wear a hat of any kind, so get a ball cap and wear it. Drop in at the local dollar store and get a pair of horned rimmed glasses with little or no correction. You're always in either a suit or sport coat. Ditch that, wear a denim jacket and jeans, something that no one has ever seen you in. Just those few things will make John Watson disappear, believe me." John nodded in agreement. "Good idea, I'll do just that. They don't expect to see me there and so I doubt that they'll spot me. Esther is leaving Monday morning - I'll call and get a ticket for the flight following hers." He sighed, "At least I'll be doing something, not just waiting around wringing my hands, envisioning her in bed with that asshole." Irene grimaced. It felt strange, having the shoe on the other foot, so to speak. So many times had John and Esther commiserated with her after another failed relationship. Now the roles were reversed, a scenario that she never thought would ever happen. She moved to John as he rose and hugged him, then walked him to the door, asking him to keep her informed as to what was happening. He assured her that he would and slowly made his way to his car and pulled away. Irene stood for a bit in the doorway, deep in thought, her heart going out to her friend. Unbidden, another thought crept into her consciousness. She said softly to herself, "John is planning to divorce Esther. He'll then be available......" Irene shook her head impatiently. "Stop it, you fool," she castigated herself. "You're supposed to be their friend, not a manipulative bitch." But the thought lingered, the seed was planted and it would resurface. ******************** "John? John?" Esther shouted as she came through the door. Her husband had just come into the house from the rear deck and heard her calling him. He stood there, noting her agitation, wondering, what now? "Okay, Esther, calm down. I'm here, you sound upset. What's wrong?" Esther visibly calmed herself, steeling herself for the anger that she expected after she told him of the change in plans, that she'd be leaving tomorrow evening instead of Monday morning. "John, please, please don't be angry and please let's not have another spat." She took a deep breath and just blurted it out. "John, I'm leaving Sunday night instead of Monday morning. This is the end of the project, John. Once I get the signature, it's all over. No more crazy hours, back to normal. I know that we have had problems, honey. But just let me get this thing over with and, I promise, things will be so much better." Esther stood there, not realizing that she was clenching her hands, anxiously awaiting the blow-up she so feared, but knew was coming. John just stood there, controlling his ire. "Okay, Esther. I understand," he grated. "Don't worry. No shouting, no more invectives. I fully understand. You go and do whatever you have to. We'll talk when you return. We'll have much to discuss." He then turned and left the house, got into his car and drove away. He just couldn't stomach being near her, he didn't want to be in the same building. Esther stood watching him leave, her mouth agape. This was something she didn't anticipate; John had never turned his back in anger and walked away. It was at that moment that Esther knew that her marriage was in serious trouble and she wondered if they could ever find a way back. But beneath her frustration, anxiety and fear there smoldered a core of resentment and anger. He should be more understanding, more aware of what her job demanded of her, more supportive. ******************** John returned late that night. He had parked along the riverfront and had walked. He wasn't quite sure how far, but it seemed miles. He returned to his car exhausted in both mind and body. His had figuratively tossed the ball of his marital discord around endlessly. He had berated himself - what's the use of agonizing over this? The end was self evident - quit the bullshit, get the goods and get it over with. This festering wound had to be cauterized, or you'll bleed to death. He entered a dark and still house. He saw that it was after midnight and he softly crept up the stairs and into the guest room. Too tired to undress he kicked his shoes off, laid back on the bed and, despite the devils plaguing his thoughts, fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. The next day was chilly in the Watson's household. John and Esther avoided each other as much as possible and when the taxi pulled up late in the afternoon, Esther just picked up her briefcase and suitcase and left without a word to her husband. John looked through the window as she entered the cab and pulled away. He started to have second thoughts about his trip the next day. After all, what did it matter now? Esther's departure seemed a fitting end to the relationship, did it really matter if she was going to shack up with Moriarty? "No, I want the proof," he thought to himself. "I want hard evidence. I don't want there to be any doubts." Was it to justify his paranoia? ******************** It was a very different looking John Watson that checked into the hotel the following morning. Wearing a Phillies baseball cap, the silly horned rim glasses, plaid shirt and denim jeans and jacket, he looked a far cry from the staid academic that everyone was used to. He was shocked at how different he appeared. He became quickly convinced that he really wouldn't have to worry too much about being spotted or recognized. It was now after 11:00 a.m. and he knew that Esther would be out. He figured that she wouldn't return until later in the afternoon or evening. He would plant himself in the lobby, in a spot he had already chosen. The large, artificial palm would screen him to a degree and the light in that corner was dim. Another advantage was that he would be able to see the elevators from that vantage point. From the check-in desk John started for his room, then hesitated as he saw a hotel shop featuring fresh flowers. He entered and picked up a business card for the establishment, then turned and left. Moving into an alcove he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of the florist and ordered a dozen roses to be delivered to Mrs. Esther Watson. He specified that the flowers be delivered to her room within the next hour. John then strode into the lobby again and sat and waited. It wasn't too long before he saw a bell man carrying a vase of red roses leave the shop and head for the elevator. John was close on his heels and entered the elevator behind the bell man whose name tag read Bill. Bill pressed floor number 12 and looked questioningly at John who just nodded and smiled. They both exited at the twelfth floor. Bill turned left while John hesitated a moment, then turned and followed Bill slowly. He saw Bill knock on a door, wait a bit and then use a pass key to enter. The room number was 1212. John smiled, turned and quickly headed to the stairs. He didn't want Bill to find him wandering the hallway. At floor 11, John went to the elevators, saw one descending, waited a bit and then pressed the down button and exited on floor 9 where his room was located. John was seated in the lobby in his previously chosen location at approximately 4 o'clock. He sat with a newspaper on his lap, making a rather negligible attempt to read in the dim light. His eyes would wander occasionally to the wall clock where the minutes seemed to tick away in slow motion. Finally at 6:33 John saw Esther enter the lobby. With her was a tall, slender blond man who, despite the years since he had last seen him, he recognized as James Moriarty. They didn't seem to be in a good mood; they appeared tense and lines of frustration seemed etched on their faces. It appeared that the negotiations had not gone well. They said very little to each other, but John saw Moriarty take Esther's elbow. He tried to move her into the dining room, but she pulled away, shook her head and headed to the elevators. Moriarty shrugged and followed her, John staring intently at the floor indicator. He watched the floor numbers flash, pause on floor 8 and then proceed to floor 12. He didn't realize that he was holding his breath, and then let out an explosive blast of air. John entered the hotel coffee shop where he quickly consumed a club sandwich and an iced tea. He didn't want to be away from his location for too long. Minutes later he was back in his chair with his newspaper, pretending to be engrossed. He sat there until a few minutes after 11 then rose and traveled to his room. His suitcase was still on the bed. Jon was in deep thought as he unpacked, washed and brushed his teeth. "Maybe Esther is right," Jon wondered. "Maybe I am paranoid. There was nothing that looked anything like an affair. Their body movements certainly did not appear to be anything but professional. There was no "looks", no touching, no soft smiles." John shook his head impatiently, "am I really being a blithering fool? Have I really gone off half-cocked?" John undressed, pulled on a pair of pajamas and got into bed, but he didn't even make an attempt at sleep. He needed to think - he needed to use his intellect to reason out what was happening. "Could I have been so wrong," he wondered. John knew that he needed to try to push his emotions aside and tackle this problem analytically, something he should have done months ago. Unfortunately, being in love and suspecting that one's spouse is unfaithful isn't truly conducive to clear thinking or reasoning. John's thoughts were muddled and he recognized that. "Okay, let's finish this undercover agent fiasco, get back home and then sit down with Esther. I've got to tell her of my concerns, my fears, and I've got to do this without having the conversation degenerate into another bickering session. It appears that every time we try to have a serious conversation about how our marriage has disintegrated, we wind up fighting. Okay, perhaps it's my fault as well as hers, but this time we either resolve to solve our problems, whatever they are, or agree that we've come to the end of our relationship," John reasoned. A Study in Scarlet Ch. 02 He then felt a sudden chill, an emptiness. John knew that life without his wife would be a pale imitation of what he had had. He would sorely miss the richness of life with Esther. He knew that he loved her, had always loved her, but he also knew that that love would die, turn bitter and sour without the nurturing that all love requires. John sighed, still confused as to what the future would bring. He turned over in bed and despite himself, fell into a restless and troubled slumber. ******************** John woke late the following morning, but despite the late hour, he felt as if he hadn't slept much. His head throbbed and his lips twisted at the sour taste in his mouth. He quickly showered and brushed his teeth, gargling with the hotel mouthwash. Dressed in his new, quasi-western garb, he exited his room and quickly made his way to the hotel coffee shop. John found that he wasn't very hungry and he ordered toast and coffee which he quickly consumed. Lingering over a second cup he considered his options. Reason now dictated that he must allow for the possibility that Esther's so called affair was nothing more than a suspicion that grew like topsy into a firm conviction. He felt ashamed; jumping to conclusions not based upon reality was something entirely foreign to him. He must now be totally objective and allow for the very real possibility that all of this was a product of his own self-doubts and insecurity. John decided that he would honor the reservation he had made at the hotel for two nights. He would again be in the lobby, but he was slowly coming to the conclusion that there was little likelihood that his vigil would produce anything untoward. That evening John was again ensconced in his chair in the corner of the lobby. He had a new newspaper with him, but made little effort at reading. Again his eyes wandered to the clock. It was now well past 7:00 and he became just a trifle agitated, his imagination again driving him to worry. At 7:14 Jon breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Esther coming into the lobby, but his relief was short lived. His wife and Moriarty were almost giddy, laughing and clutching at each other. Moriarty had his arm around Esther's shoulder and was chuckling and whispering in her ear. John saw that her face was flushed and even at that distance he could see the sparkle in her eyes. Then both of them headed into the hotel dining room and were quickly seated, now out of his sight. ******************** Esther was euphoric. They had bulldozed all of Simmon's objections and had finally gotten his signature on the contract. All of the months of hard work and long hours had paid off and she knew that this coup could very well land her a partnership in the firm. Her spirits were soaring and she looked at her dining companion with affection. Despite Jim's philandering ways, he was a sharp attorney as well as a hard worker. He would share the benefits of the successful completion of this project. She would make sure that he would be given proper credit. "Essie," Jim bubbled. "I can't believe that it's all finally over. All those months we put into this thing, it almost makes me feel light headed." He then motioned to the waiter and added a bottle of wine to their dinner order. Esther almost objected but mentally shrugged. "Why not," she thought. "We deserve it. We worked hard enough for this moment." Dinner was consumed leisurely, the bottle of wine was soon depleted. Conversation flowed easily, they were both relaxed and riding highs of the success of the day. Esther looked at her watch and saw that it was almost 9:00. "Okay, Jim. It's getting a bit late and we have a flight to schedule for tomorrow. Time to wrap this up." Her words were a bit slurred. "Oh, please, Essie. Late? You've got to be kidding. Let's not end it now. You know it's early. Let's go into the lounge and relax a bit. We're both riding highs, we need to come down. Let's have a couple of drinks, the night's young. C'mon, Es. I'm strung as tight as a high wire," Jim begged. Esther paused, then laughed at the "little boy" expression on Jim's face. "Why not," she thought. "It really is early." "Okay, Jim. Let me go up to my room and change out of this damn suit. I'll be down in a bit. But only for one drink, that's it." John watched anxiously as Esther walked to the elevators and Moriarty into the lounge. He breathed a sigh of relief, watching his wife enter the elevator by herself. He almost stood to return to his room, then decided to enter the lounge and have a drink. He needed something to release the tension that had gripped him at the sight of Esther and Moriarty entering the hotel, arm in arm. John found a stool at the far end of the bar where he sat and ordered a scotch and water. Looking around, he spotted Moriarty in a far corner booth and wondered why he had chosen to sit there. He turned his head quickly, not wanting to be noticed. Shifting a bit on the stool John saw that the mirrored backdrop of the bar gave him a good view of that area of the lounge. He was able to inspect Moriarty without turning his head and he was confident that he wouldn't be recognized, especially after so many years. John sat and nursed his drink, letting the tension flow from his body. By now he felt fairly confident that his fears were groundless and he was mentally rehearsing scenarios of apology. An apology that would be heartfelt and that Esther couldn't help but accept. His eyes kept drifting to the mirror and he was puzzled that Moriarty still sat there nursing the one drink that he had ordered from the bar girl. Few of the booths were occupied, the place seemed almost empty. John glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 9:30. He started to rise to leave when he felt his stomach clench and his throat tighten. The woman walking into the lounge was Esther and she was now wearing a simple white silk blouse, a tight black skirt and a string of pearls around her neck. John recognized those pearls, he had given them to her on her 40th birthday. She glanced about and saw Moriarty seated in the far booth. John steeled himself not to move or look in that direction, but he could see clearly in the mirror as Esther moved a bit unsteadily to the booth. Moriarty had scrambled out and was standing, waiting for her. He took her hand and motioned her into the booth and then slid in beside her. John was too far away to hear any of their conversation, but it really wasn't necessary. The picture of the two of them together said far more then mere words ever could. John saw Moriarty wave the bar girl over and order drinks. He smiled, almost surreptitiously, at the young girl and slipped her what appeared to be some money. It wasn't long before the drinks arrived and the happy couple sipped and chatted. John had his eyes glued to the small portion of the mirror that showed what was happening in that far booth behind him. He saw his wife smiling, laughing, glowing. He saw Moriarty stroke her hand and touch her arm as he spoke softly. John felt the hot coal of anger burning in his gut; there was no longer much doubt. He sat there quietly, feeling an almost out of body experience, his thoughts no longer muddled or chaotic. He saw his wife fawning over that son of a bitch and he knew that his marriage was over. But John decided that he wasn't going to go quietly into that dark night. Esther wouldn't be able to slip into denial any longer. He sat and his face twisted into a grim smile. He sat and watched the two lovers in the booth. ******************** Esther giggled as Moriarty whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her and she giggled again. Between the bottle of wine at dinner and the two rather strong drinks she had just consumed, she was feeling little pain. She didn't desist when her companion ordered a fresh round and actually gulped a quarter of the drink when it arrived. Esther felt buoyant, ecstatic, exultant. Her hard work had paid off and she was on top of the world. Why not have a few drinks, let her hair down a bit? What's the harm? Esther picked up the glass and quickly drained it, not even noticing Moriarty motioning for another round which arrived soon after. Things seemed to be a bit confused, she felt a comfortable buzz and felt a bit warm. She suddenly felt Moriarty's lips on hers and she instinctively put her hands on his chest to push him away, but those hands betrayed her. They were soon clutching his shirt, pulling him to her. Her mouth opened under his insistent probing and their tongues dueled with each other. Some semblance of reason permeated Esther's consciousness and she pulled away. "No, no, no," she gasped. "I can't, I'm....... married," she slurred. Moriarty over rode her feeble objections by nuzzling her neck and breathing warm kisses on her fevered skin. Irene again felt a flush of desire and felt the crotch of her panties become damp. It wasn't long before Moriarty had Esther's blouse out of her skirt and his hand on her bare back. It was obvious what his objective was and it was soon realized as her breasts sagged just a bit without the support of her bra. Moriarty soon took advantage of that, his hand moving to her front, fondling her bare mounds, gently pinching her now very erect nipples. Esther had her head on his shoulder, moaning into his ear. "Please, Jim. We shouldn't, we shouldn't, it's wrong........ 'Please......, Jim," but she made no move to stop him. She raised her head, grabbed him and mashed her lips against his. Moriarty then immediately pulled his hand from her chest and swiftly slid it up her thighs to her very damp mound. It took only a second to slip a finger under the leg of her panties and into the steaming heat of her pussy. Esther moaned into his mouth and her legs opened, almost instinctively, giving him greater access. She felt him pulling at the flimsy material and raised her hips, allowing him to pull her panties down her legs and off. He pulled away from her grasp and with a smile, dropped the deep red, lacy material on the table. Then he dropped his lips again to hers and plunged his hand back under her skirt and began to toy with the moist, wet lips of her sex. He felt her pubic hair, now damp and slick. He slowly inserted two fingers into that moist, hot channel, allowing his thumb to play over her clit causing Esther to gasp as she felt her orgasm approaching. Moriarty, now sure of his conquest, took Esther's hand and placed it on his cock, which was now free of his trousers. She instinctively grasped it, gently squeezing the smooth skin, caressing the flaring head now wet with his lubrication. Esther began stroking his throbbing member, mesmerized by the aura of sexuality, by his probing tongue in her mouth, by his fingers slowly and sensually moving in and out of her vagina. She seemed to be in a fog, riding a high of intoxication from the alcohol she had consumed and the sexual stimulation she was receiving. Her hips undulated, fucking his fingers while her hand stroked him in rhythm or as a counterpoint to his attack on her pudenda when she was suddenly startled out of her reverie by a familiar voice. "I'm sure you won't mind if I join you. I really should applaud.....but I won't," said John sliding into the booth opposite them, carefully placing the newspaper her had carried, over the small pile of nylon and lace. Esther sat there, somewhat confused, then gasped as she finally realized that her husband was sitting opposite her. Her hand went slowly to her mouth and her face paled. Moriarty, fumbling, getting his cock back in his pants, suddenly decided that he had a previous appointment, tried to get up and leave, but was stopped as John snarled softly but venomously. "You move and I'll rip your fucking face off, asshole." Since discretion is the better part of valor, Moriarty remained seated, but with a frightened and wary look on his face. He did remember his first encounter with Esther's husband. Esther felt chilled, the euphoria, the exultation gone. The cloud had vanished from her mind, the sudden appearance of her husband was like a splash of frigid water over her. She saw the iciness in John's eyes, the contempt and, yes, the devastation. "Tell me about my paranoia, Essie," Jon murmured coldly. "Tell me what an unreasonable prick I am, sweetie - how I should be more understanding, more supportive." John turned to Moriarty who was fidgeting, obviously anxious to be off. "I should thank you, asshole. At least you had the manners to pull your fingers out of her cunt when I arrived. I'm not too certain if that would have occurred to my dear wife." Esther gasped again at those words, tears now appearing. She felt nauseous, light headed. The man seated across from her was not the man she recognized as her husband. It was not the strange clothing, but the sneer on his lips, the eyes that were now so cold, and yet burned with a terrible intensity. Then, with a shock that pierced her, she realized that those eyes radiated hatred. "I really should apologize for the intrusion. I should have let you two continue, you were so obviously engrossed in your foreplay. I should have allowed you to leave for one of your rooms to continue your betrayal, Esther,, " John whispered hoarsely to her, the words coming out harsh and strained. Esther trembled, tears now trickling down her cheeks. "No, no, John, Please. It's not what it appears. I never....... I never.....", her voice trailed and faded and John forced a chuckle that contained no amusement. "No, Esther. It's exactly as it appears. Your boyfriend finally appears after years away and you just can't wait to get into his bed. How long has he been fucking you, honey?" he grated. "No wonder you have been so dissatisfied with me lately, Jimmy boy must have very impressive equipment. How did it feel, Esther? How did it feel fucking him, relishing the humiliation that I would finally experience? How did it feel, making me a cuckold?" John was now hissing, spittle flying from his lips. "Wait a minute, buddy," Moriarty interrupted, then hesitated, seeing the rage flash over John's face. "Get out, you cocksucker, but first let me give you some advice. Keep looking over your shoulder. One day I'm going to be there, maybe not tomorrow, or next week, or next month, but someday I'll be there," John rasped. "And when you see me, it's then that I'll kill you. Make no mistake, I will kill you eventually, motherfucker. It may not be a bad idea for you to travel far, far away, but that will probably not help you much. One day we'll meet again - now get the fuck out of here before I smash your fucking head in." Moriarty didn't hesitate. He almost ran from the area and John chuckled grimly watching him stumble away. He then turned back to his wife who was now staring at him with horror. She had never heard him use such language, had never heard such venom in his voice. Her head was still buzzing a bit, everything seemed unreal. John gazed at his wife, his eyes traveling over her disheveled blouse and her obviously unrestrained breasts. The bile rose in his throat. He sat and stared, wondering for a moment what had gone so wrong with the two of them. Was it him? Was he that poor of a mate? Or was it Esther? Was she so dissatisfied with him as a husband, with his profession? John suddenly realized that he didn't care - he really didn't care about the reason. He was brought out of his musing by Esther's voice, cracking with emotion. "John, please. I was carried away. I let things go too far. Please, John. Forgive me - you have to forgive me. I just let things go too far...... I got the Simmons contract....... I was so happy........I just let.......things......go.....too.. far. I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry........" and her voice faded again as she sobbed. John just looked at her. "Shut up, Esther. Just shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear any more lies or excuses," he muttered wearily, then removing his newspaper, revealed her panties on the table, a crumpled twist of red nylon and lace. John paused, listening to Esther sob softly. " I remember these," he said, almost conversationally, fingering the small pile of fabric, noting the soaked crotch. "I gave them to you for your birthday, almost a year ago. Remember what you said? Oh, I remember. You said that scarlet is your favorite color. I knew that, that's why I chose that color. "Appropriate, isn't it......scarlet. Maybe you should take these and fashion a letter A which you should wear on the front of your dress. Oh, but we don't do that anymore, do we........ shame, maybe we should......maybe we should do that, to let others know......to protect others," John mused. "You told me that you would save these for a special occasion. I presume that you're wearing the brassier that goes with them now - or should I say almost wearing." John paused again, as if remembering. "You never did wear them, at least for me, Esther, did you? Yet, you wore them now, you donned the set for your lover today," his voice had turned bitter. "Stay here and screw Moriarty. You now don't have to worry about discovery now, but don't come home. Don't come home yet.......wait until I'm gone. I'll be gone in a day or two. Make sure that you don't show up until then. I don't want to see you, Esther. I don't want you near me. Just stay the fuck away until I'm gone......just stay away," John continued dully. "I'm going to file for divorce." He looked up at her as Esther gasped again, turning even paler. " We'll split everything, except you can have the house. I'll never again step inside that structure. I'll just take my clothing and personal effects...........effects.......oh, and my research material. I need that for my profession, Esther. The profession that you so often denigrated. Everything else we'll split. That's seems fair." John mouth was twisted into a grimace of distaste. "Don't fight it, Essie. If you do I'll testify as to what I witnessed tonight. That will damage your precious career.......oh, and your lover's.......we don't want that to happen, do we." Keeping his eyes trained on hers, John picked up Esther's lacy undergarment and slipped it into his pocket. He then pushed himself up and walked away from the booth. He paused, looked back to see Esther sobbing quietly, then turned and continued walking. (To be continued) A Study in Scarlet Ch. 03 A Study in Scarlet, Ch. 03 - Conclusion Three months had passed since John Watson moved out of their home. He had instituted divorce proceedings as he had promised and now Esther was fighting it tooth and nail, despite his warning that he would expose her infidelity with Moriarty. John discovered something about himself during this time period. He found that he just couldn't air their dirty laundry, for whatever reason. Was it because of the humiliation he would suffer, or was it that he just didn't want to smear or abase his wife? It didn't really make any difference, whatever the reason, he found that he couldn't go through with his threat. He was informed by Sherwood Holmes, his attorney and friend, that Esther would continue to contest the divorce unless John would agree to a private conversation with her, with no restrictions as to time. Esther had declared that she at least deserved to be heard. If, at the end of that conversation, John decided to proceed with the divorce, she would cease contesting it. "That's the bottom line, John," remarked Holmes. "You know Esther, she's a very able attorney and she could drag this thing out for ages. If you want the divorce that badly, sit down and listen to her - it won't kill you." John sat still in Holmes' office. He wasn't lulled by the rich leathers of the chairs, the dark, walnut paneling or the volumes of law books lining the walls. He turned his head and gazed bleakly for a moment out of the window, seeing the bare limbs of the trees and the gray, overcast sky. He turned back to Holmes and snapped, "Fuck her. Fuck her and her demands. She wants to fight the divorce? Let her. I just don't give a shit." Holmes sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Listen, John. We've known each other for a hell of a long time. I'm more than your attorney, I'm your friend also, don't forget. This mess is going to wind up costing you a fortune, money that you don't have despite the break this firm is giving you, at my insistence. Sit down and listen to her, then you can get your life started again." John shook his head. "No, Woody, I won't sit with her, I won't speak with her, I just won't. I know you think I'm being pig headed, but I know what she's going to say. Believe me, I could write the script. She'll either admit her affair and beg forgiveness, or she'll try to lie her way out of it. I don't want to listen. There's nothing, nothing that she can say that'll change my mind. "Listen, Woody. I know you're right about the spiraling cost of this. You can tell Esther that I won't speak with her, and she can do whatever she wants. Hold off on the divorce, it really isn't that important any longer. I have absolutely no plans to get married again, probably never will and.........," John smiled a bit and emitted a bitter laugh. "Maybe she'll agree when she decides to corral another sucker. When it's in her best interest, then she'll go ahead with the divorce. I really don't give a shit anymore." Holmes shrugged. "Okay, John. I'll let her know. We'll just hold all of the paperwork until.......whenever, but do me a favor. When you feel up to it, give me a call, let's have dinner. It's been ages since we got together.......," he paused, his voice fading. John immediately rose and put a hand on his friends shoulder. "Damn, I'm sorry, Woody. It's been what?........over a year since Mary's passing. Here I am laying all of my crap on you and I know you're still hurting. Of course I'll call you. Give me a few days - we'll get together for dinner and a few beers. I would really enjoy that." Holmes smiled and escorted John out of the office. He stood for a moment, shaking his head in sympathy, watching the slumped shoulders of his friend as he walked out of the front door and into the cold, gray afternoon. It didn't take John long to make the drive home. He parked in the driveway and slowly trudged through the front door of his townhouse. He paused for a moment, looking around at his new rental. He had moved in about 6 weeks ago and had spent a fortune in paint, new carpeting and furniture. He had vowed that he would begin his new life in suitable quarters, he wouldn't hide away in a monk's cell. Fuck it, he would enjoy his single life. After all, he was only 46. There was life after marriage, a marriage that he hoped would someday be severed. He strolled around his new digs, looking about with half a mind while simmering at Esther's intransigence. Spacious living room and dining room, modern kitchen with granite countertops, two up to date bathrooms, one directly off the master bedroom. But what really sold him on this unit was the small add-on. An add-on directly off the living room accessed by sliding glass doors. Contained therein was a modern spa/hot tub with all of the bells and whistles. John smiled again as he viewed it. Over the past few weeks he had enjoyed many hours in that tub, hours relaxing and loosening tight muscles as well as a mental tension that plagued him. ******************** "Damn it, Irene. It's not the end of the world," he yelled. "It's just not working, you know that. It was great, but it's just not working." "Fuck you, Tony. You're just scared shitless by your mother. She wants you to marry a nice Italian girl, a good, solid Yankee's not good enough for her. Screw you and her. Get the fuck out, Tony. Who needs you........ Irene's voice broke and she turned away so that he now ex-boyfriend, Tony Mazza wouldn't see her tears. Tony stood still for a moment, a genuine look of regret on his face, then turned and left, quietly closing the door behind him. Irene sighed and threw herself onto the sofa. Her tears had ceased and a wry smile appeared on her lips. It's wasn't as if she truly loved Tony, it was just so frustrating that she couldn't hold on to a man. "What the hell is wrong with me," she wondered. "Why can't I find someone who can truly love me? Why, after all these years, can't I find someone with whom to share my life?" Taking a deep breath, Irene headed for the bathroom. She pulled her panties down, sat and emptied her bladder. Taking a handful of toilet tissue, she patted herself dry, rose and kicked her panties off. Pulling her dress off quickly, Irene unhooked her bra, picked up her panties and deposited her undergarments in the hamper. She moved into the shower where she stood and let the hot water stream over her, feeling some of the tension leave her. Soaping herself quickly, she rinsed and stepped out of the cubicle. Taking a towel from the bar, she dried herself and tossed the towel over the shower door. Reaching for her robe, Irene paused and turned to the full length mirror on the bathroom door. She examined her reflection critically. She saw a tall, mature woman in the prime of life. Her dark hair was now shorter than usual, curling around her face. Her light, olive skin was flawless, her breasts large with little sag. Her gaze traveled down to a flat, taut tummy then to flaring hips attesting to her womanhood. Her pubic bush of dark hair was trimmed nicely - she always made sure to keep in from becoming unruly. Irene twisted and gazed upon her rear. "Hmmm," she muttered. "Perhaps a trifle too large, but not bad, not bad at all." She then grimaced and muttered, "Shit." Flinging the door open, Irene impatiently shrugged her robe over her shoulders and threw herself onto the bed. Picking up a novel she had started, she opened the book and tried to interest herself in the banal plot before slamming the book shut and tossing it from her. "Damn it, I need a drink," she said aloud. She rose from the bed and walked to the kitchen where a few bottles of whiskey were stored. A glass, some ice cubes and a splash of bourbon completed her task. Returning to the living room, Irene sank gratefully into an easy chair, sipped her drink and again wondered where her life was going. "Damn it, stop feeling sorry for yourself, girl," she muttered. "I need some company, I need to get out. I can't stay here feeling sorry for myself." An idea lit up her eyes and she moved to the phone and dialed. "John?" she exclaimed when she heard his voice. "It's Irene. Are you busy? I would really like to come over." She paused and listened to his reply. "That's great. I'll see you in an hour or sooner." ******************** Darkness had started to fall as Irene pulled into the driveway. Quickly exiting her car, she moved to the front door and before she could ring the bell the door opened and John pulled her into the warmth of the foyer. "Perfect timing, sweetie. The delivery guy was just here and everything is still hot. C'mon, give me your coat and let's eat," John laughed. "Wow, John, you know how to sweep a girl off her feet. This is perfect. I didn't even realize that I was hungry. But now that you mention it, I'm starving. Lead the way." They chatted amiably as they devoured cartons of Chinese delicacies, then, discarding empty and half-full containers in the trash, they retired to the living room with the remnants of the bottle of wine that John had opened. Filling their glasses with the last of the wine, John tossed the empty bottle in the bag with the rest of the refuse. They continued their banter until their glasses were empty. John looked down, considered opening another bottle, then looked up at Irene. "You know what, enough with this silly stuff. Let's get serious." He then rose and retrieved a bottle of good scotch from the cabinet bar. Splashing a goodly amount in two glasses over ice, he gave one to Irene and settled himself opposite her in another easy chair. He eyed his friend owlishly, already a bit buzzed from the wine. "Okay, sweetie. Lay it on me, it's my turn. What's bothering you? Tell Uncle John," he said gently. Irene laughed and sipped her drink. "You know, this is really good. I never realized that you had such good taste in liquor." John sat there quietly, stared at her and said nothing. "Oh, shit," she muttered. "I guess you know me better than that. It's Tony - he broke up with me today. Crissake, John. What the hell is wrong with me, am I that much of an ogre? Why can't I keep a man?" she asked plaintively. "You really want to know, Renee? Because if you do, I can tell you. It's no big mystery, if you're really sure you want to know." Irene sat quietly for a moment, startled at his comment, at his question. "What the hell do you mean? If you knew, why the hell haven't you told me before? Why did you keep your mouth shut, John?" It was obvious that she was more than just a bit irritated. John waved his hands defensively. "Hold on, hold on, Renee. Esther never let me say anything to you. She didn't want to hurt your feelings. I didn't agree with her, but I figured she might be right, but it doesn't make any difference now. Who gives a shit what she thinks," John sneered and then laughed. "It is you, sweetie. It's your fault and I'll tell you why. It's because you always latch on to schmucks, pricks. You choose unwisely, Renee. I tried to hint about that to you in the past, but you never saw it. Shit, why do you think that we never really cottoned to any of the losers you brought around. "Look, sweetie" Jon assumed a serious tone. "You're a beautiful, intelligent woman. You can get almost any guy you want, but the guys you choose break your heart. Think about it." Irene sat there, her mouth open. At first a surge of anger flashed in her eyes; it was difficult for her to accept what John had just told her. He had intimated, no......flat out told her that she was an idiot when it came to men. She wasn't stupid.....after that first moment of resentment, she quickly digested the information that John had given her and quickly came to the conclusion that he was right. The men in her life were pricks.....she had never had a decent relationship, a relationship that hadn't ended badly. "Son of a bitch," she whispered. "Goddamn it, you're right. Why haven't I seen that before. Why do I do that......maybe I need a shrink. Damn, now that I look at it, you are right. Maybe I'm a loser too and that's why I choose losers." "Wrong, wrong, wrong," John protested, getting to his feet. "First, let me refresh our drinks." While John was refilling their glasses he continued. "You're no loser, don't start that. But you may be right, maybe you should see someone who can help. That may be a really good idea, kid." John hesitated and then let out a grim chuckle. "Maybe I should do that too, My head isn't exactly screwed on too well," They sat and looked at each other for a moment. John then tried to stifle a chuckle. Irene smiled tentatively and it wasn't long before the two of them were roaring with laughter. "Boy, are we a pair," groused Irene, taking another hefty swallow out of her glass. "Well, at least you had almost 20 wonderful years with one woman," She immediately put her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just said, seeing John's eye's start to tear. "Damn, I'm sorry, John. That just slipped out, please forgive me, I wasn't thinking." "Nah, that's ok, Renee. You're right. For the most part they were wonderful years, that's what makes this situation so fuckin' tragic. Now all I do is wonder how many other men she been with over those wonderful years. See what happens when you lose the trust you've had in a loved one? Everything becomes suspect," John replied sadly. "Enough with that crap. Let's me refill these glasses. I'm glad that you came over, Renee. We can get drunk together," John laughed. So the two friends sat, chatted amiably and slowly got tipsy, which, of course, was their goal. They both knew that drowning sorrows in alcohol only made them worse - especially the next morning when the pain struck. But at this point they really didn't care. "Johnny....," slurred Irene. "You nevah let me use the........ wha' the hell is that tub out there." "The spa?" questioned John, trying to keep his eyes focused. "Hey, good idee......let's get in the spa. C'mon, Ree," John stumbled to her and with arms entwined they staggered into the alcove. "Uh, oh. No swimmy suit, Johnny." Irene said sadly. "I din't bring a bikini. Oh, shit." "Fuck it. Let's go skinny dip.....uh, whas it called. Skinny somthin," John laughed. Irene laughed in return. "Okey doke, las' one nekkid loses," and proceeded to undress. It didn't take long before they were both nude. John always kept the heater on in the spa as he used it quite often, so there was no problem setting it, especially in his present state. They stood there for a moment, gazing at each other. "Jeez, Ree," John muttered, coming out of his drunken state a bit. "Damn, you're gorgeous, you look mahvelous," he chuckled. Irene blushed a bit, but strangely didn't feel embarrassed. "You not so bad either, Johnny. But what's that thingy stickin' out like that?" she pointed. This time John blushed as he realized that he had quite an erection. He laughed and muttered, "see, you're not such an ogre after all, are you. C'mon, let's get in," and he helped her into the swirling warm water. They sat next to each other and luxuriated in the jets of water now pounding on their bare bodies. They were quite aware of each other's nearness and John was also aware that his erection had not gone down. His mind was a bit muddled from the whiskey, but he knew that he had to be careful - he didn't want to lose Irene's friendship because of a wrong move. Irene on the other hand had no such qualms. She had started to lubricate a bit when she saw how excited John had become and she was tickled pink that she was able to produce such a result. "Looks like you still have it, sweetie," she thought to herself. "Damn, I'm really horny, sitting here naked next to a naked John. Should I make a move, or will he? Will he become angry? Oh, hell, why not," she finally said to herself and moved her hand into his groin. John started as he felt Irene take his throbbing member into her hand. He put his head back and groaned as she started to fondle him. She slowly stroked the smooth flesh, then moving her hand up she covered the head of his cock, feeling the slick coat of his lubrication. John knew that he couldn't take too much of this, it had been too many months since he had been with a woman. John suddenly shuddered and Irene knew what was coming. She held on to him as he released spurts of semen, making the water cloudy. Irene smiled as she felt him slowly slump against her. "Johnny, Johnny, you surely needed that," she murmured, releasing his now flaccid penis. "Jeez..........Jeez, Renee. I'm........I'm sorry, I didn't.......even know that I was that close." John breathed. He then sat up and turned to his spa companion. Taking her in his arms he kissed her gently. Releasing her after a bit, he looked into her eyes and smiled. "You're right, I surely did need that - you have no idea how much I needed that, and.........and now I want to return the favor." John suddenly put his arms around Irene and quickly lifted her to the deck which surrounded the spa. She gasped and quickly put her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance, noting how close he stood to her, between her thighs. Keeping his hands on her hips, John leaned forward to kiss her and as their lips touched, the tears came, unbidden. John sagged, attempted to stop sobbing, then was enveloped by Irene's arms, his face now buried in the deep cleavage of her ample breasts. She cooed and stroked his head, listening with sadness at the grief tearing his soul. After a few moments, John gently pulled away from her and splashed some water onto his face. "Damn, damn," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Renee. Don't know what happened.......damn, damn......I'm sorry.....I'm sorry...... I can't, I just can't, Renee" He put his face in his hands and just stood quietly, trembling a bit. Irene helped a now despondent John out of the spa and into one of the fluffy white robes hanging at the back of the deck. Shrugging one onto her shoulders she led an him into the bedroom where she put him to bed, as one would a small child. It appeared that John fell asleep as soon as he head sank into the pillow. Realizing that she was in no condition to drive anywhere, Irene headed for the second bedroom where she crawled into bed and tried to fall asleep, sleep which wouldn't come. She knew at that moment that John was not available, despite his separation from Esther. She also knew that he never would be. And, in her heart of hearts, she knew that she didn't really love John. He was her dearest friend, but what was absent was the love that true mates share. Her eyes teared a bit, not at that realization, but at the agony that her friend was going through. The pity of it all was that John loved Esther with a devotion that was unique. Her betrayal would haunt him forever. ******************** "Irene, I know I screwed up, and I know that I screwed up badly, but John is wrong. I never had an affair with Jim or with any other man. He thinks that I've been screwing around for months now and I can't get him to sit down and talk to me. I have to convince him that he's wrong, that what he saw that night was the first time anything like that happened," Esther concluded wearily. The past few months had not been kind to Esther. She had lost weight and was drawn and pale, listless with little energy for anything beyond work. Irene had made it a point to visit Esther and speak with her. She knew that John was suffering and her suspicion that Esther was in the same state was confirmed by this visit. "I understand, Esther. At least I think I do, but what I don't understand is John. I've tried to talk to him about this but he's adamant. He absolutely refuses to see or you talk to you. I've never known him to be so unbending." A Study in Scarlet Ch. 03 "I think that I've hurt him badly, Renee," Esther whispered, as much to herself as to her friend. "I think that I've hurt him so badly that he even refuses to face me.........and I don't blame him.....I really don't blame him," she said tearfully. "Sorry.......every time I think I've no more tears to shed, I start again." Straightening up, Esther got to her feet and pleaded, "Renee, could you please stay with me for awhile. I need to do something and I really could use your support. Could you stay for a bit?" "Of course, I'll be happy to. I only wish there was something more constructive that I could do," Irene replied. Esther looked at her watch and turned to the phone, muttering, "I hope that he's still in his office," as she dialed. Woody? Hi, this is Esther. Yes, I'm fine. Woody, could I ask a favor. Could I come and see you in the morning? Yes......yes......I've decided to give John what he wants. No, no conditions......yes....., okay, thanks." Esther turned and faced her friend. "Irene, I'm going to give John the divorce. I know he's not going to see me or speak with me; I'm just kidding myself. He at least deserves to get some closure, I'm going to. give him what he wants.....that's the least I can do," she said as her voice faltered. Irene had paled a bit. "Esther, wait. This is crazy. I know that the two of you love each other and I can't believe that the two of you can't get over this problem. Let me talk to John again. Maybe I can get him to see reason," she pleaded. Esther just shook her head. "No, John needs to get his life started again. Fighting the divorce just isn't fair to him. He's made it quite clear that our marriage is over and I really have no one to blame but myself. I was stupid and unthinking and this is the result of my idiocy. I'm not going to kid myself any further," Esther voice had strengthened, then became hesitant. "But please, Renee. Just stay with me for awhile. I really could use your support," Esther begged. "Of course I'll stay. I'll stay as long as you want me," Irene reassured her as she rose and moved to hold Irene's hands which were as cold as ice. ******************** "She what? Say that again..... Esther's not going to fight the divorce?" John Watson stood there, stunned at the information he had just received from his attorney. "Woody, what's going on? She's got to be trying to pull a fast one. We both know Esther, she doesn't give in that easy. "Okay, okay, Woody. Let her come and we'll see if she goes through with it - see if she signs without any preconditions. I'm not going to hold my breath though." "Dinner? Sure, good idea, Woody........... Yeah, I know where that is. I'll meet you there around 7:00, ok? Good, see you then." John wandered through his home, now preoccupied with the information he had just received. He felt somewhat conflicted and he couldn't understand it. He should feel justified, satisfied that he was getting what he wanted. So why this feeling of discontent, this sense of uneasiness? This is what he wanted, right? There was really no other option, was there? He continued to meander through living room to kitchen, back to the living room, pausing at the spa alcove, then moving into the bedroom, back to the living room where he sank into a chair. "What the hell is wrong with me," he muttered. "Shit, I'm getting what I want," he continued. "Fuck it," he said aloud. "I need a beer," and he went into the kitchen and got a cold one from the fridge. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and was startled by the ring of the phone. "Hello......Oh, hi Renee. What's up?........................." "Renee, Renee. Forget it.......Oh, oh.......sure. I'm meeting Woody Holmes this evening, but you're more than welcome to join us. You heard me speak of him, Irene. No, no, I mean it. I'll call and tell him that you're joining us. You guys should meet anyway. Look, I'll pick you up around 6:30 or so. We'll go together, and Renee, no more nagging, ok?" "Yeah, yeah, so I'm a hard ass, too bad. See you this evening. Bye" ******************** Later that evening John and Irene entered the restaurant and approached the table already occupied by Woody Holmes. John, his mind still preoccupied with Esther and the pending divorce, introduced his two friends perfunctorily. He then suddenly noticed the silence and looked at his companions, still standing by the table. Irene was actually blushing, her cheeks were blazing. And Woody, damn..... he was standing there holding her hand and it looked like he wouldn't ever let it go. "Hey, hey, you two," laughed John. "You're like two teenagers meeting on a blind date. I take it that you kind of like each other?" Woody also turned red and released Irene's hand. "Uh, uh, sorry.....sorry about that. I......uh......I." Irene, cheeks still pink, laughed a little self consciously and quickly took a seat at the table. "Jeez, ok, ok. What? Did you two hear bells or something? Talk about being bowled over. If I had known I would have gotten the two of you together long ago," chuckled John. "Enough, Johnny. You're embarrassing Woody.....and me too for that matter. Behave yourself," retorted Irene, but with a faint smile on her face. It was an interesting evening, especially since little was said concerning the topic uppermost in John's mind. They quickly came to the conclusion that they would have to wait until Esther actually signed the divorce papers before they would know what she was up to. Any speculation now would be pointless. So dinner and the conversation was centered on Woody Holmes and Irene Adler, rather pointedly leaving John as the odd man out. This didn't disturb him one bit and he sat most of the evening with a bemused smile on his face, watching and listening to his friends becoming more and more enraptured with each other. Their mutual attraction was so obvious and John quickly came to the conclusion that this meeting could be very fortuitous. Perhaps Woody found someone who could finally heal the pain of his wife's passing, and Irene finally a man who wasn't a loser. Dinner over John excused himself and headed to the men's room. Finishing his business quickly he washed his hands and strode across the room back to his table. Seating himself he looked at his friends enquiringly as Woody began stuttering a bit. "Uh.....uh.....John. Uh....look," he stammered, turning red all over again. "I hope that........this is......." "Oh, for pity's sake," Irene interrupted. "John, Woody would like to drive me home. I'm sure that you won't mind," Irene said quickly, her cheeks now pink again. "Well, I don't know about that," John teased. "After all I'm the one who picked you up and drove......." "John," Irene warned. John laughed and gazed affectionately at his friends. "Of course not, I won't mind at all." ******************** "Esther, it's nice seeing you again, even under such less than ideal circumstances," murmured Holmes as he took her hand. "Please, come in and have a seat." "Thanks, Woody. You can understand how difficult this is for me. Please, let's get this over with as soon as possible. I just want it over and done with, and I want you to know that I do understand John's refusal to see me or speak with me," Esther concluded. Holmes sat and gazed at her for a moment. He noticed how pale and wan she appeared. He again realized how difficult this was for her and sighed. "I'm truly sorry, Es. I tried to change his mind, but you know how stubborn he can be. I'm truly glad you're not contesting this, glad for the two of you." Esther nodded and again asked for the paperwork. Woody placed the appropriate documents before here and she signed without even reading what was before her, which astonished him. "Es, you're not going to read the thing?" "What for, Woody. I trust you, I know you're a competent attorney. You know what to do and I know that John is not going to screw me over. He has a lot more integrity than I," she said softly and had the grace to blush. "Esther, listen to me," Woody said sharply. "I know you and I know how much this is tearing you apart. I intent to confront John again, especially now that you have signed with no preconditions. You know he's a fair minded person and I suspect that one of the reasons he fought about talking to you is that it was a precondition to your signing. He felt he was being forced. Now that you have signed, I bet that his attitude may be less rigid." Esther just shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever, Woody. I will understand if he doesn't change his mind. I destroyed my marriage and I can't blame anyone but myself. I had hoped that John and I could at least remain friends, but...........," she paused and tears again came to her eyes. "Sorry, Woody. I've got to learn to control myself," she whispered as she rose to her feet. "Please forgive me, I've got to run," and turned and quickly left the office leaving Holmes standing and shaking his head in pity. Holmes stood, deep in thought. He then sat down slowly and reached for the phone. "Hello? Renee?" "Yeah, it's me. Listen, honey. Esther has just left my office and I'm truly worried about her. She signed the divorce agreement without even reading it through..............yeah, surprised is not the word. "Listen, I know how close John is to you. Could you arrange to meet with him and tell him that it's over. That Esther has signed and make sure that you tell him about the fact that she didn't even read the conditions of the divorce. I kind of think that we can make him feel just a tad guilty about his refusal to talk to her........." Woody laughed, "yeah, we are meddlers, but this is in a good cause. Great, I'm glad that you agree. We both know John, once he settles down a bit, he is reasonable and rational. We both agree that he should talk to Esther and I think that he eventually will........ okay, you take it from here. Are we still on for tonight? .........Good, pick you up around 7......bye, honey." ******************** John Watson approached the door of the home that he once shared with his wife with some trepidation. He felt a tightness in his throat and he could feel the sweat on his brow despite the chilly weather. He stood at the door for a moment, wondering whether giving in to the urging of Irene and Woody was a good idea. He truly didn't want to reopen old wounds. He truly didn't want to even think about Esther's infidelity; every time the scenes of the hotel lounge came into his mind he shuddered and felt his stomach heave. The last conversation he had with Irene still rankled just a bit. Irene had repeated what Esther had told her. Irene insisted that Esther wasn't trying to excuse her behavior, that it was a combination of her being high on the success of the project, the amount of alcohol she had consumed and Jim being there with her, complimenting her, flattering her. "Bullshit, Irene," John had exploded. You're telling me that it was just a matter of propinquity???? That when she isn't near the man she loves she loves the man she's near???? "Knock it off, John. You know damn well that's not what I mean," Irene snapped back. Fortunately they were both able to calm down and Renee finally convinced John to meet with Esther. But, John almost turned to leave when the door opened and Esther stood there, silhouetted by the light behind her. "John? John, please. Please come in," she pleaded. John straightened, turned and forced a smile to his lips, a smile which was obviously forced. "Okay, thank you, Esther," he muttered as he entered what at one time was his home. His eyes darted about and he noted no changes - everything seemed to be exactly as it was when he left. What did catch his eyes was what seemed to be a light patina of dust over everything which astonished him a bit. Esther was always a rather fastidious person and dust or dirt was anathema to her. He didn't comment. "John, thank you for agreeing to see me," Esther said softly. "I truly do appreciate that and I promise that I won't keep you longer then necessary." "Okay, Esther. Woody and Irene prevailed upon me to come and let you speak with me. I really can't see how it will benefit anyone, but in appreciation of the fact that you're not contesting the divorce, I gave in and agreed to meet with you," John replied, but with no warmth - his voice flat. Esther swallowed. She knew that John wouldn't make this easy, but she was resigned to this most difficult confrontation. She knew that she needed to tell John the truth and to acknowledge her total stupidity, and she prayed that at the least he would forgive her. Esther knew somehow that his forgiveness would be a catharsis for her - a symbolic cleansing of her conscience. "John, please just listen, please. Listening will benefit me," Esther responded, her eyes pleading with him. John paused, his eyes boring into her, nodded, then sat stiffly in one of the chairs. "Okay, Esther. I'm listening," he said. Esther took a deep breath and began. "John, please, if you believe nothing else, please believe me when I tell you that I have never slept with Jim or any other man except you, and I never had any intention of doing that. I know that what you saw that night seems a direct contradiction of what I just told you, but it's the truth, pure and simple." John interrupted, "Esther, the truth is rarely pure and never simple." Esther colored a bit and again implored him to listen. "I wish I could explain my irrational behavior that night - I have thought of little else, wondering why on earth I allowed that to happen. Let me admit now, I have no excuses. For those few moments in time I was someone of whom I am totally ashamed. I've tormented myself, I have asked myself again and again why I allowed Jim those liberties." Despite her resolve, Esther could hold back the tears as they streamed down her cheeks. "I wish that I had a simple answer for you." she continued with a catch in her throat. "The only conclusions I could come to was the relief and joy I felt at the successful completion of the contract and the amount of alcohol I consumed. You know that I have never had more than a glass of wine, ever since........" Esther paused, flushing at the memory of that New Year's party. John just sat there with a blank expression on his face. He felt his emotions roiling and his anger almost surfaced when she reminded him of that incident, but he figuratively bit his tongue. But, strangely enough, he believed her when she said that she hadn't slept with Jim or anyone else. That belief brought him no relief, but instead even more emotional conflict. "I also have to admit that I was just a little angry with you. I felt that you should have been more supportive, more understanding. I know, I was being unreasonable, but that was my frame of mind. It's no excuse, but that was part of what I was feeling. I've gone through the whole thing again and again, and even I recognize that stupidity of what I'm saying to you. All of these things are so shallow and superficial and I can't even begin to tell you how horrible I feel, but believe me, John, you can't hate me any more than I hate myself." Esther paused again and reached for a tissue to wipe her eyes. "Sorry about the tears, John. I promised myself that I wouldn't do that, guess that's another promise that I couldn't keep," she whispered. Esther then looked at John, a plea evident in her eyes, "John, is there anyway that we can get over this, counseling, whatever - anyway we can save our marriage?" John looked at her for a moment, sighed and sank back in the chair. He gazed at his wife and felt an emptiness, a terrible sense of loss. He spoke softly, "Esther, answer this question. If I hadn't interrupted you and Moriarity that evening, can you truthfully tell me that you wouldn't have wound up in bed with him, you wouldn't have allowed yourself to be seduced, you wouldn't have been unfaithful?" Esther gasped as she recognized the inevitability of her answer. She was honest enough to admit to herself that that would have been the result of that night's activities. She suddenly knew that what John was stating was true - she would indeed have become an adulteress. She turned even paler, knowing what her answer must be, but John just waved his hand dismissively. "You see, Esther, that's the rub. You betrayed our marriage when you allowed that asswipe to kiss you as he did. You betrayed our marriage when you returned his kisses as passionately as you did. You betrayed our marriage when you allowed him to undress you in that booth and fondle that which you had promised to only one man - me - your l husband, the man to whom you vowed your fidelity." John's voice had risen and he made a conscious effort to calm himself. He didn't want this conversation to degenerate into a verbal brawl. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Esther?" The question was rhetorical, Esther understood now exactly what John was telling her. For some reason, she never gave any thought to what the conclusion would be to the activities of that night. Now it was suddenly made very clear to her. She couldn't deny that - she knew that John was right. She would have wound up in Jim's bed and she felt a surge of nausea, a sense of hopelessness. Esther just sat, shaking her head, the tears coming again. John looked at her pityingly. "I feel sorry for you, Essie," he continued, now gently. "I feel sorry for you and I feel sorry for me. Perhaps it's not all your fault, I guess that I, at least in small part, can share some of the blame. Perhaps I should have been more supportive, more understanding, but to be honest, that in no part excuses your behavior that night. In any event, the question that I have to ask myself is both simple and terribly complex. "What would be easier for me? Would it be easier for me to live with suspicion or regret? Is it be possible for me to get past this mess and go on with our marriage? Can I live my remaining years with the lack of trust that I have in you, the suspicion that once again you'll betray me? Can I go on, constantly looking over my shoulder, so to speak, wondering if or when you'll "slip" again. "Or can I live my life without you - with the regret that I'll always feel at the breakup of our marriage. The regret that you didn't love me enough to remain true. The regret that I wasn't enough for you. The regret that while I can and do forgive you, I just wasn't strong enough to forget." John paused, feeling his own eyes begin to tear. "I'm sorry, Essie. I just can't live with suspicion......... regret is easier." John rose, paused for a bit, his heart going out to his wife who sat huddled in the corner of the sofa, sobbing. He turned and slowly made his way out of the door and into the night. The End