The room was quiet, dark. The only sound, the tick, tick, tick of the clock that stood on the dressing table. The candle that rested on the little table next to the bed, had long since extinguished. The maid that had been sent to watch over the slumbering lady, had herself fallen asleep. Yet there was one person that was wide awake. One person that had made his way into the stately home when chaos had caught the attention of all those within. His eyes now focused on the prize, that lay silently on the bed. A small smile coming to his lips, as he moved to her side, and allowed his fingers to ghost over the cheek of the lady.

He hadn't wanted to let her go when the ransom had been paid. She had fascinated him, intrigued him. Despite her predicament, she hadn't appeared afraid. She would confidently ask him questions whenever he would go in and feed her. Questions about where she was, why she had been taken; what they wanted with her. His answers just being short and sweet. That she had no need to know where she was, just that she would be returned to her father after the ransom were paid.

She was only meant to be a means to an end. Her father was a powerful man, with many connections, both in England and across Europe; and he had desired to know just how far these connections extended. Whom Lord Royston could call on in times of trouble; what he was willing to do for his only child. The price for her return, not money, not gold or jewels, but information. Information worth far more to him than any monetary gain. Secrets and lies sure to make him for more, in the long run. Yet things had change from the moment that she had been brought to him.

He had heard of her beauty. He had heard that the Lady Royston had many an admirer; the Queen's own grandsons, said to be amongst them. But as she lay unconscious, he knew that the only person worthy of her, was himself. That even when the price was paid for her return, he would never really let her go; that he would always be with her. That one day he would get her back; and he had already waited too long to fulfill that promise. The masquerade ball that her father was organising for her, the cover that he needed to once more claim her as his. The only issue, the arrival of Sherlock Holmes; but in the end that would make his victory all the sweeter. Pitting wits against the great detective and winning. Stealing the lady right out from under his nose, all the proof that the world would need, that he was the greater mind.

"Not much longer now. A few short days, and you will be with me again, my dearest (Y/n)............." He whispered softly into her ear. His lips brushing against her skin, as he took in the scent of her floral perfume. Unable to stop himself from kissing her.

                                                        >>-----------------------------------<<

"Well...........?" John yawned, rubbing his eyes, as he looked over at Sherlock, who was lost in his thoughts.

The doctor had watched, as Sherlock had studied the blood-stained playing card in far greater detail than anyone really should study a card. Yet instead of telling him if he had discovered something from the damaged knave of hearts, the younger Holmes, had drifted off; leaving John to wonder what was going on in his mind. But all that was some time ago now. In fact, it had been hours, and now the doctor had had enough; he was tired and would have a patient to check on in the morning; so, Sherlock either spoke now, or he was off to bed.

"Unlike the other cards that were found at the sites of the previous Knave of Heart's, robberies; this one, given the colouring, design, size and weight of the card, is over a hundred years old, and is from a French pack. On it, the knave is shown as a youthful man in his prime; a card associated with not only that aspect, but also bravery, loyalty and passion. It is the Knaves way of telling Lady (Y/n) that he had come back for her. That he has every intention of making her, his queen. Caine was just his way of proving to her, that he will do anything to protect her. That he is more than willing to kill, to keep her safe............"

"But why would the Knave kill Caine.............?"

"Simple. A show of love. This is a small, tight knit community; and though there are seasonal workers that come from other villages and towns to help with such things as the harvest, most people know one another, and rumours spread quickly. That, and given who we met, I cannot imagine that Caine was a man to remain quite; especially when he had consumed enough alcohol, which he had been doing not long before he met his untimely end, given the smell from his mouth. If the Knave is the man that Lady (Y/n) saw, then I should imagine that he heard some of the rumours about what had transpired between Caine and the Lady. In fact, I believe that Caine had probably been boasting about it, and it was this boasting that led to his death. The Knave taking it upon himself to show Lady (Y/n) that he is more than happy to protect her, to kill anyone that would do her harm." Sherlock explained, as he got to his feet.

"So........what do we do now...........?" John asked, as he to rose from his seat, stretching out his aching muscles.

"We.......? Well, you will go to bed. You will have a patient to deal with in the morning. And I, I will go and check on her ladyship, now..............." Sherlock explained, as he made his way over to the door.

"But what about the Knave..............?" The doctor enquired, as he followed the consulting detective out of the room.

"The Knave is going nowhere. Not as long as his prize is here. Our next step is to move all our pieces into place. Lestrade and his man from Scotland Yard will provide the pawns I need so that I am prepared for the Knaves next move..........." Sherlock replied, before quickly making his way up the stairs. Leaving John to drag his heavy legs to his room. The doctor hoping that the Knave's next move wouldn't come until after he had got some sleep.